Program 12
by Shinoko
Summary: The new school year has begun, and the sixth year class of Hogwarts has been chosen to participate in a deadly battle royale with only one rule: Kill or be killed.
1. Prelude: Sixth Year

**_Obligatory disclaimer #1_** -- _Harry Potter_ does not belong to me. It belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am not her, for if I were I would have better things to do with my time than to write fanfiction. On with the story, then.   
  
  
**September 1, 1996 -- 10:01 a.m.**   
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) stood on Platform 9 ¾, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. So far, none of his friends had arrived yet, but he was an hour early (Uncle Vernon had business in London, so dropped him off at King's Cross rather than have him tag along), so there would be time yet to meet with them. Checking that he had everything with him one last time, he sat on his trunk and started reading his letter once again. He wished that he had brought something to keep him entertained, but what could he do? Supposedly, all sixth years were supposed to remain in the Great Hall after the feast for orientation. Harry supposed it was about their Newt level classes or some such, but something struck him as being a little bit odd about the whole thing. 

"Hey, Harry. You're here early." 

Harry looked up, and smiled when he saw Seamus Finnegan (Boy 7, Gryffindor). He'd have preferred to meet with Ron or Hermione, but any company was better than none. Well, almost. He'd prefer to be alone than have to wait with someone like Malfoy. 

"Hey, Seamus. You're early, too." 

Seamus shrugged. "Had no choice. I put off my school shopping until today, so after I was done I took a bus. If I'd waited for a later one I would've missed the train. You?" 

"Uncle had business here, and decided to drop me off rather than have me tag along. Better that way. The car's air conditioner is broken, and if I stuck my head out of the window like a dog, I'd get too many bugs in my mouth. Plus, I don't think my uncle would like that very much." 

Seamus laughed, and sat on his own trunk. "Probably not." 

There was silence for a while as neither knew what to say. Harry glanced at the big clock down the platform that was ticking very loudly. "I wonder if it would be safe to leave our stuff here and wander around for a bit. I mean, it's not like anyone would steal it or anything." 

Seamus shrugged. "Dunno. A Slytherin might." He gestured further down the platform, where Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) leaned against a wall, arms folded across his chest. "I'd rather not take the chance." 

Harry nodded, and looked down at his shoes. "Boring, though. Huh. My shoelace is getting frayed." 

"You must be bored." Seamus smirked. 

Blaise straightened up and walked to the entrance of the platform. "I'm stepping out for some fresh air anyway, so you won't have to worry about me stealing your stuff. Do whatever you want." And off he went, back to the Muggle part of King's Cross. 

There was a pause, and Seamus stifled a laugh. "Guess he heard us. Oh, well. How long you think he'll take?" 

Harry shrugged. "Probably not long. He left his stuff." And sure enough, there it was sitting, right where he had left it. 

Another pause. "You wanna search through it?" Seamus suggested, eyes twinkling mischievously. 

Blink. "He might be back soon. Besides, wouldn't that make us no better than him?" 

Seamus sighed and leaned back. "You're no fun. And it would be different. We wouldn't steal or hide anything, just look through. Big difference." 

Harry shook his head. "Still not convinced." Silence. He glanced up at the big clock. Still another 45 minutes to go. "I wonder when the train'll show up." 

"Dunno." 

More silence. Both boys stayed where they were, although Seamus occasionally glanced back and forth between Blaise's belongings and Harry, possibly wondering if he should risk it. Whenever Harry caught him doing so, he would send the other boy a warning look. 

Finally Blaise returned, and resumed his post further down the platform, not even bothering to look to see if his stuff was left untouched. 

The second hand of the big clock was ticking louder than before. "Hey, Seamus. Do you have any idea what the orientation we're supposed to attend is about?" 

"Classes, maybe?" 

"Maybe..." 

"I doubt it," Blaise said from his part of the platform, not even looking their way. "If it's what I think it is, you might not want to get on the train when it comes." 

Harry and Seamus glanced at one another, and quickly had to look away and stifle their laughter. "And why is that?" Harry asked when he was able to regain his composure. 

Blaise looked at them, the expression on his face rather grim. "You better hope I'm wrong." 

Harry stiffened, ready to draw forth his wand if need be. "Are you threatening me?" 

Blaise sighed, shook his head, and turned away. "If only it were that simple..." 

"Harry!" Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) came up running to him. "I've got great news!" He stopped and looked at the empty train tracks. "Huh. Not here yet. But Lupin's back! He's teaching Defense this year!" 

Harry smiled. "Really? How'd that get pulled off?" 

Ron shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe someone died and they had no choice. Ow!" 

Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) had smacked Ron in the back of the head. "Honestly, Ron!" She turned to Harry. "After everything that happened last year, people wanted a decent Defense teacher, even if they were a werewolf. Dumbledore was able to convince him to return. You know, I--" 

Whatever she was going to say next was cut off by the sound of a train whistle as the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station. Harry covered his ears at the loudness, as did the other students standing on the platform. He noticed that a few more students and their families had found their way there. The place was finally starting to look busy. 

When the whistle had died down, Ron turned to Harry. "Shall we get on or wait to see who else shows up?" 

Ginny, Ron's little sister, who had been standing near them, looked over to them. "Can we wait a little while longer? I'm waiting for Dean Thomas to show up." 

Ron's face turned red and he turned to his sister. "I truly hope you're not serious about dating him." 

Harry, Seamus, and Hermione looked on amused as the young Weasley decided to torment her brother some. "Well, I could always date Malfoy." 

Ron made a face and went ballistic. "What?! No! No way! I forbid you to even joke about that! That's just... Ew!" 

Ginny smirked. Mission: Annoy Ron was coming along beautifully. "So wouldn't Dean be a better choice?" 

Seamus interjected. "I think he's going out with Lisa Turpin. You know, that Ravenclaw?" 

Ginny looked disappointed for a moment, then her face brightened once again. "So what about you? Are you seeing anyone?" 

Seamus was just about to open his mouth to say something when Draco Malfoy (Boy 13, Slytherin) sneered at them. "Trying to get a head start on starting a Weasley family of your own? I wonder how many kids you'll have by the time you leave school." 

It took the combined strength of Harry, Seamus, and Hermione to prevent Ron from attacking Malfoy right then and there. However, that left Ginny free to punch Malfoy right in the face, breaking his nose in the process. Everything was silent as everyone turned to her. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she glared at the bleeding Slytherin, then glanced to her bloodied hand. 

"Oh, great. Malfoy germs." She looked back to him, and drew her wand, pointing it at him. "I would suggest you get on the train and never bother us again, or I will have no choice but to hurt you." She smiled sweetly. "Understood?" 

Malfoy tried to sneer at her, which proved to be a mistake as he was washed over with a fresh bout of pain. "Dis isn't ober." He turned away from them and got onto the waiting train, ignoring the assorted laughs and applause. 

Freed from the grasps of his fellow Gryffindors, Ron turned to his sister and beamed at her. "That was excellent. Pow! Right in the nose!" 

Ginny smiled and shrugged. "He deserved it." 

"Normally I don't condone violence," Hermione began, "but in this case, he had it coming." 

As everyone around started to congratulate Ginny, Harry glanced over at a smirking Blaise, who seemed to be trying to keep himself from laughing. But when he noticed Harry looking at him, his face turned stoic once more. 

"Yo, Dean!" Harry turned back to see Seamus greet his friend, Dean Thomas (Boy 18, Gryffindor), who had just arrived on the platform. "You missed it! It was so cool!" His voice trailed off as he ran over to the entrance. 

Harry glanced back up to the big clock. Half an hour to go. He wondered what classes he might be taking for the next year, but figured that his schedule would be determined at orientation. He wanted to be an auror, and as such had to take a rigorous schedule full of many classes. He had done all right on most of his OWLs, but Potions might present a problem. He had done better than he expected, but not quite good enough for Snape's standards. He had gotten an 'E' (Exceeds Expectations), but last year Snape had claimed to take only those students who had gotten an 'O' (Outstanding). Maybe he'd get lucky and Snape wouldn't be teaching Potions this year. Maybe Snape was eaten by a carnivorous three-toed sloth. Or maybe he was visited by three spirits one snowy summer night and would have a change of heart. But as far as Harry could tell, it hadn't snowed all summer. 

"Earth to Harry, I do believe that we have come back into orbit." The green eyed boy turned back to face his friend, who had been trying to gain his attention. Ron smiled. "And he's back! Was it fun in space? Did you fight lots of L.E.N.s?" 

Harry blinked, not quite sure what Ron was talking about. 

Hermione sighed. "Aliens, Ron. Not L.E.N.s. Sometimes I don't know why I bother." 

Ginny smiled sneakily and leaned closer to the other girl. "Could it be love?" Hermione turned bright red, as did Ron, and Ginny turned to Harry. "She stayed with us in the Burrow for the last two weeks, so we had to share a room. And sometimes she would start talking in her sleep-- Mmph!" The still bright red Hermione had placed her hand over Ginny's mouth. 

"Heh heh. Pay no attention to her. She forgot to take her medication today." Hermione started to drag Ginny off towards the train. 

Harry blinked, then grinned slyly and turned to the red Ron. "Seems like I missed out on a lot of interesting things this summer. Care to share?" 

Ron, however, lost all power of coherent speech. "I... uh... um... I..." He started walking stupidly over to the train, tripping over his feet as he did so, but able to maintain standing. 

Harry chuckled and followed, not looking behind him.   
  
  
**September 1, 1996 -- 10:46 a.m.**   
Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) was hoping that he was on the right bus this time. After reassuring his Gran that he wouldn't get lost and could make his way to King's Cross on his own, she had finally relented into letting him go on his own. And then... he took the wrong bus. He wasn't sure where he had ended up, but it certainly wasn't King's Cross. And so he had to find a bus that would hopefully take him there. To do so, he had to transfer at a station, trying to drag behind him his trunk, while keeping a firm grip on Trevor, his toad, so that it wouldn't run off and get lost. He was running out of time. 

Glancing at his watch, he saw that he had less than 15 minutes to get to Platform 9 ¾ or else he would miss the train. And wouldn't that be embarrassing? 'Yes, Gran, I know I promised that I could get to the station on my own, but I took the wrong bus and got lost and missed the train.' He could only imagine how disappointed she'd be in him. He had been making real progress, too. After what happened last year in the Department of Mysteries, he had thought he had gained confidence in himself. Things were improving. He had actually remembered everything he needed this year, and finished all of his homework. And now this. Two steps forward, one major step back. 

"Things will be different this year," he whispered to himself, earning a few stares from his fellow passengers. 

If all went well, the next stop should be King's Cross, and he wouldn't miss the train. He was actually looking forward to the next year. He had gotten an 'O' in his favorite class, Herbology, and decent marks in most of his other classes as well. An 'E' in Defense Against the Dark Arts felt nice, as it meant all of his hard work in Dumbledore's Army last year paid off. The best part was, he wouldn't have to deal with Snape anymore. The 'A' (Acceptable) he received in Potions was a pleasant surprise, as he was absolutely certain he would get a 'D' (Dismal). So all was good. 

And look! The next stop is King's Cross! The bus stopped to let off the passengers, who were trying to avoid the weird boy with the toad. 

Neville smiled to himself as he dragged his trunk with one hand while holding Trevor carefully but firmly with the other. He had gotten this far. With ten minutes to spare, he had no time to go on a toad hunt. He barely had enough time to make it as it was, with how heavy the trunk was. He was beginning to regret his decision to go alone. If his Gran was there, she could cast a spell to make the trunk lighter. But he made his choice, and had to deal with the consequences. Step, step, drag. Please let me get there in time. Step, step, drag. Ignore the stares. Yes! The entrance! 

Pausing for a moment to look apologetic and let the people around him look the other way, he waited until all was clear and made his way onto Platform 9 ¾. 

He had just made it in time, as the warning whistle was blaring. Two minutes left, so hurry, hurry. Can't miss the train now that he's here. Step, step, drag. Step, step, drag. Somehow dragging the trunk up onto the train with him, he had barely managed to get on when the doors closed and the train started moving. Too close. Next year, he'd have his Gran go with him. 

Of course, next year he would be 17, and able to practice magic on his own, so that might not be necessary after all. Until then, he had all year to make up his mind. Now to find a compartment. 

Abandoning his trunk for the time being, he walked down the aisle, pausing to look into compartments to find one that was empty. Or at least one that had friendly faces in it. Hopefully he could find one soon, before he bumped into Malfoy. 

Instead, he bumped into a tree that had stepped out of a nearby compartment. Or rather, Gregory Goyle (Boy 9, Slytherin), who was now looking at him menacingly and cracking his knuckles. Out of the same compartment, Malfoy stepped out and glared at Neville when he saw him. Neville took a step back, trying to suppress any and all laughter at the sight of Malfoy holding his bloodied and broken nose. 

"Um, sorry?" 

Draco continued to glare, and gestured at Goyle to return to the compartment. The other boy complied, but Malfoy didn't go back right away. He continued to glare, and then finally spoke. "I haben't forgotten what habbened last year. You'll ged yours." He turned around and went back into his compartment. 

Neville let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding and continued to look down the train for an empty compartment, hoping that he wouldn't run into any more... unfriendlies... along the way. 

As if his prayers had been answered, he was able to find a compartment that contained only Luna Lovegood. She was friendly, if a little strange. Asking her if he could join her, she nodded, and he went back to get his trunk. 

The train ride went rather quietly from there on. He looked through his Herbology text to pass the time, while she read the most recent issue of the Quibbler upside down. But every so often, whenever he would glance up, he would see her giving him a sad look of pity.   
  
  
**September 1 -- 6:04 p.m.**   
It felt so good to be off the train and get some fresh air, even if they did have to go back inside right away. But fresh air is fresh air, no matter how brief. 

Pansy Parkinson (Girl 15, Slytherin) smiled, glad for the brief reprieve from the confined walls of the train. She hated enclosed spaces. It was stupid, really, especially since the Slytherin dormitories were underground in the dungeons. Spaces couldn't get any more enclosed than that. But that was different. That was home away from home. For the most part, though, she preferred the outdoors. Nothing felt better than to have the wind blow around her, her face tickled by strands of hair that dared to be swept away with the breeze. So that part was annoying, but it was still nice and refreshing. 

Walking slowly in order to savor her time outside before she was destined to be shut indoors again, she took the time to glance around her. Many of the more simple students were dashing as quickly as possible to the carriages that would take them to the school. The first years were gathering anxiously around Professor Grubbly-Plank. Pansy was glad to see that giant oaf Hagrid wasn't there again this year. Hopefully he would stay gone this time. He was an absolutely horrible teacher, and it was only a matter of time before someone got killed in one of his classes. If it weren't for the fact that the class was held outdoors, she would have dropped it ages ago. But now they had a proper teacher. Hopefully it would stay that way. 

And so she reluctantly got into the carriage before her, hoping that the feast and orientation wouldn't take too long so she could take a walk around the grounds before bedtime. It was too bad that she couldn't set up a tent and camp outside like she did during her summer vacation, when her family went camping in the wilderness of Canada. It was a nice place to visit, but she wouldn't want to live there. Too cold. It was laughable, really. She liked the outdoors, but hated the cold. But everyone has their little quirks. 

As the carriage drew ever nearer to the lights of Hogwarts, Pansy had a sudden feeling that she should just make a run for the Forbidden Forest once she got out. She felt that way every year, but this year the feeling was stronger than ever. Must be residual traces of her longing to be back in the wilderness, though. And so, just like every year before, she sighed as she exited her carriage, and made her way to the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.   
  
  
**September 1 -- 6:26 p.m.**   
By the time he found his seat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Harry Potter's stomach was growling. Even though he and his friends had eaten a lot of candy on the train, that had only temporarily satiated his hunger. Perhaps he should have had some breakfast, but he just hadn't been in the mood at the time. He just hoped that this year's sorting and speech would be short. 

Remembering what Ron told him earlier about Professor Lupin being back, he looked towards the staff table at the end of the hall. Sure enough, he was there. He looked like he wasn't feeling very well, but he was there. Surprisingly, though, many of the seats remained empty. He hoped that none of the missing staff had become victim to Voldemort. 

No! He was trying to suppress that. He wanted to be normal again. He didn't want to be some savior destined for anything. He didn't want to be the prophecy boy. He glanced over at Neville, who was slouched in his seat, looking just as hungry as Harry felt. Although he wouldn't really wish his destiny on the other boy -- who it very well might have been -- he couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if it had been Neville rather than himself who had been attacked that fateful night. 

But thoughts like that were not normal. Nor would they change anything. And hadn't he worked all summer on trying to heal inside, and think normal thoughts that any other normal 16 year old boy would have? Suppress the pain, forget about what was going on, just be oblivious until the time came to fight. Hope that the prophecy was wrong, and that it wasn't him. Better yet, pretend that it never existed. Everything was fine. 

At long last, the first years were led in by a grim looking Professor McGonagall. And the Sorting Hat had a new song, but he could barely hear it over the loud rumbling of his stomach eating itself. Alas, it appeared as though he was in for a long wait, as there appeared to be dozens upon dozens of scared little first years. Just shoot 'em all and let the Hat sort 'em out. He grinned slightly at the grim joke, then sighed and put his head down between his hands, hoping that it wouldn't take too long. He was hungry. So hungry that the thought of eating his own arm was suddenly becoming very appealing. 

Thankfully, before he grew hungry enough to take the first bite (although he had licked the back of his hand a couple of times, trying to determine whether he needed salt or not), the sorting ended and Dumbledore stood up. 

"I know that you're all hungry, so I..." The headmaster stopped, his voice choking up. "I wish this could last forever, but I know most of you would be angry at me if I were to prolong this." 

"Damn straight!" Someone yelled from amongst the students. 

Dumbledore nodded, forcing himself to smile just a little. "As you should all know now, the Ministry," he choked up again, "they've finally admitted that Voldemort has returned. I'd like to lie to you, and say that everything will be all right. But I won't. There's much sadness ahead of us yet. Too much sadness." He glanced around the Great Hall, his eyes heavy with sorrow. "I wish I could change things. I really do. Please understand that I'm sorry." He sat down, and the feast began. 

"Well that was odd," Ron said as he piled his plate high with food. 

Harry nodded and swallowed his food. "Can't talk. Eating." 

Hermione just sat there, eating in silence, a curious expression on her face. Something was wrong. She'd been feeling strange all day, and this wasn't helping. None of the other students seemed to be as concerned as her, though. Maybe it was just her imagination. She tried to put those thoughts into the back of her mind as she ate. She didn't have much of an appetite due to the odd feelings, but she had another feeling that she'd be worse off if she didn't eat and build her strength.   
  
  
**September 1 -- 7:38 p.m.**   
The feast was finally over, and the students were feeling mightily full. Dismissed, they began to trickle out of the Great Hall. The sixth years, however, instructed to remain behind for orientation, were gathering in groups, chattering excitedly about the year to come, what classes they were taking, and whatever else came to their minds. Most of the teachers and staff had left the Great Hall as well, leaving only Dumbledore and the four heads of the houses behind. 

"That hits the spot, huh, Harry?" Ron was leaning back in his seat, eyes closed. "I thought I would never eat again, I was that hungry." 

Harry nodded, barely paying any attention to his friend. He was more interested in watching the remaining professors. Professor Dumbledore was still looking grim, and McGonagall didn't look very cheerful either. Professor Sprout was shedding silent tears, while tiny little Flitwick was rocking back and forth. Even Snape looked as though his puppy had just died. 

"It's strange. There were a lot of empty seats at the staff table." Ron opened his eyes to look at Harry, who continued talking. "Now this. It's as though something really bad has happened." 

Ron shrugged. "With You-Know-Who back, something bad probably did happen." His face suddenly turned serious. "Maybe someone really did die." 

"Maybe..." 

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and four strange and official looking wizards entered. They closed and locked the door behind them. The students stopped with their chattering and looked over, wondering what all this was about. 

"No! You can't!" Professor Sprout screamed from the other side of the hall, trying to jump over the table. 

One of the strange wizards looked at her, then turned to the other professors. "Someone restrain her." 

Flitwick stopped shaking long enough to put a hand on her arm and shake his head in resignation. 

"But it's not right! They can't! They can't..." Sprout slid down to the floor, sobbing hysterically. 

The same wizard who spoke nodded grimly. "I know. So sad. Life goes on." 

"Monster," Snape spat at the wizard. 

Harry nudged his friend. "What do you think this is all about?" He turned to look at Ron, who was slouched in his seat, fast asleep. "Ron? Hey, wake up! Ron?" He glanced around the room, seeing that the rest of his classmates were asleep as well. "What's going on?" He felt sleepy all of a sudden. Glancing once more at the teachers at the end of the hall, he thought he saw tears run down Snape's cheeks. Whether it was true or not, he would never know, as soon he blacked out. 

**40 students remaining**


	2. International Education Reform Program

**_Obligatory Disclaimer #2_** -- _Harry Potter_ still doesn't belong to me. For that matter, _Battle Royale_ doesn't belong to me, either. It belongs to Koushun Takami, who probably wouldn't be writing fanfiction here. 

And if you haven't joined the Yahoo group already, I suggest that you do. Chapters go up quicker there. The link is in my profile.   
  
  
**September 1, 1996 -- 3:47 p.m.**   
Petunia Dursley hummed to herself as she vacuumed the living room floor. It wasn't so much that it needed a good vacuuming, but she thought she saw a smudge of dirt. It might have been a shadow, but she didn't want to take that risk. If company came over and it _was_ dirt, what would they think? So she vacuumed, just in case. 

She still had another hour and a half before Vernon was to come home and she was to start dinner. She didn't want to admit it -- and if you asked, she would vehemently deny it -- but she was bored. Dudley had left for Smeltings earlier in the day. The boy had left as well, which was just as well, because she knew the neighbors were talking about her, wondering where she went wrong to raise a boy so hopelessly delinquent that he would have to go to a reform school for criminals. It was better that they think that, though, than if they knew the truth. 

She could never admit to anyone that her sister's kid was one of those freaks. It just wasn't normal. She could never understand why her sister had actually gone to that freak school. Hadn't she warned her that it was dangerous? There were dangerous people out there who were more than willing to trick someone as naive as her. But Lily never listened. 

Petunia had once been close to her sister. But that was long ago, long before Lily had ever gotten her letter. Back then, Lily was always getting into trouble with something or another. Climbing trees she wasn't supposed to climb. Running across the street without bothering to look for cars. Insulting the mean girls down the street. But when it came right down to it, Petunia was always there to protect her baby sister. And once the letter came, she realized that she was no longer needed. Lily went off into her own world, full of everything one could imagine, and more. 

Petunia knew the truth, though. There was a dark side to everything. There were bad people out there, just like the mean girls down the street. And if Lily left for her own world, Petunia could no longer protect her. So she did everything she could to convince Lily not to go. But her little sister always was stubborn. 

Sometimes, she wondered how things might have been different if that letter had never come. Lily would still be alive, and the two might never have grown apart as they had. Petunia supposed it was her own fault. She should have been happy for her sister, but just couldn't be. Maybe it was because of the feelings of abandonment. Maybe it was because a small part of her wished that she could have been part of that world as well at one point of time. 

But that time was long gone. One dark night, _he_ had come. Obviously one of those freaks, because no sane person would dress up like that, except maybe on Halloween. Petunia hid herself in the other room as he demanded that her parents tell him where Lily was. When they refused to tell him anything, he used his freakish powers to torture them. After satisfied that they knew nothing, he killed them. Two streaks of light, and it was over. It took all of her strength to keep herself from making a sound. Finally he left, but not before forming some sort of symbol in the sky above their house. 

She never could quite forgive her sister for what happened. It was all because of her that their parents had died. No. It was all because of that letter. 

And so she grew to hate magic. 

Then one morning, just after she had begun to get on with her life, with a family to call her own, she found the boy on the doorstep, and her carefully constructed world crashed down. Things would never be the same. The boy was sure to become one of _them_, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Just like she couldn't protect Lily, she wouldn't be able to protect him, either. So she refused to allow herself to grow too attached. She didn't want to be hurt again. The first few years, things were all right. No signs of abnormality. Occasionally, she felt her defenses weakening, but then strange things began occurring, and she knew it was only a matter of time. Vernon seemed to think that the magic could be beaten out of the boy, but she knew better. It was inevitable. Just as Lily was destined to receive her letter, he was destined to receive his when he grew old enough. And just as Lily had done, he too would enter a dark world thinking it held nothing but sunshine and rainbows. 

The dirt (or was it a shadow?) was being particularly stubborn as she vacuumed over it. She concentrated compulsively on the spot, trying to will it to become clean. It was silly, but maybe by sheer will alone, the spot would come off. 

The doorbell rang a second time. She'd been lost in thought when it rang the first time. Turning off the vacuum, she walked over and opened the door. An official looking man in a suit stood on the doorstep, hand poised to ring the bell a third time. He lowered it as the door opened and gave a friendly nod. 

"Mrs. Dursley, I presume?" 

Petunia nodded. "That's correct. How may I help you?" 

The man sighed, "This is always very difficult. Your nephew, I believe he is? His class has been chosen to take part in this year's program, to be held effective as of..." he glanced at his watch. "Well, I'm not sure of the exact time, but they will be leaving very shortly." 

Petunia stared at him blankly. "What's this all about? I have no--" 

The man waved his hand. "Now, now. We're both grown ups here. There's no need to pretend. It is simply my duty to inform you that he will be taking part of International Education Reform Program Number 12. If he survives--" 

Petunia's eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean, 'if he survives'?" 

The man chuckled. "The hardest part of my job is informing the parents and guardians. Shall we wait for your husband to return, or will you explain things to him?" 

"Tell me now." 

The man nodded. "Very well. He and his classmates will be stranded on an island until only one is left. It's quite possible that he will be the ultimate... victor. I have heard that he is quite resilient. But it's quite possible that one of his classmates will want it more. Kill or be killed. That's the rule." Leaving Petunia standing shocked at the door, the man nodded once more and walked away. 

Without even thinking about it, Petunia closed the door and went over to the vacuum cleaner. Through the tears forming in her eyes, she could see another spot had joined the first on the floor. 

**40 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 2:13 a.m.**   
When Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) came to, he was sitting in a strange classroom, along with all of his fellow sixth year classmates. Most of them were awake, glancing around at their surroundings, or fingering something around their necks. He brought his hand to his own neck, feeling cold metal. Eyes widening, he looked around. They were all wearing metal collars. What on earth was going on? 

Up at the front of the classroom, the strange wizard from the Great Hall sat in a chair, watching them. Harry made eye contact with him for a moment, but broke it when one of his classmates shrieked. Looking towards the girl (Megan Jones, Girl 10, Hufflepuff), he noticed that the window by her was completely covered over with what appeared to be sheet metal and black plastic tarp. A dark feeling rose in his stomach. Something was very, very wrong here. 

The rest of the students now awake, the man in the front of the classroom stood up and cleared his throat. Most of the students looked over toward him, although some that had just awakened were still looking around, mystified. The man glared at them, and spoke. "Do not make me attempt to gather your attention a third time, for that might be rather... lethal... for some of you." Now the entire class was paying attention to the man, who smiled. "I am your new supervisor, Mr. Montgomery. Not that it will matter for long, that is. All of your parents or guardians have been notified, so everything is in order. I'm sure you're all wondering what you're doing here, so I'll cut to the chase. Every year, one class if chosen from amongst all the magic schools in the world to participate in our little... program." 

Harry sneaked a glance at his friends to see if they understood what was happening. Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) had her hand covering her mouth, and was looking at the wizard with utmost horror. Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) had gone extremely pale, and seemed to be almost shaking. Harry looked back to the supervisor, who was still wearing that twisted smile. 

"Yes, I see some of you know exactly what I'm speaking of. For those of you who don't, I shall explain. Due to the increasing disrespectfulness of the world's youth, the Ministry of Magic passed a new law in the year 1984." He turned to the blackboard in the front, and started writing on it. "International Education Reform Program Number 12. Also known as Program 12 for short." He turned back to the class. "40 students enter, only one survives. Yes, my pets, you heard me right. A fight to the death." He turned back to the board, and drew a lop-sided oval shape on it, followed by grid lines. "You are on an island. The previous occupants have been evacuated, so there's no worry about any innocents getting involved." He turned back to the class. "Any questions yet?" 

The students looked back and forth between one another, hoping someone else would ask the questions they wanted answers to so that they wouldn't have to draw attention to themselves. 

Mr. Montgomery shrugged, and continued. "Maybe later, then. Now where was I? Ah, yes. Each of you will be supplied with a pack that contains food, water, a map, a watch, and a random weapon. Some of you will get better weapons than others. I notice some of you pulling on your collars. I suggest you stop, lest they blow up." Everyone immediately brought their hands to their sides. "Right now we are in a school located near the center of the island. 10 minutes after the last of you leaves, it will become a forbidden zone. If you are caught in a forbidden zone, your collar will blow up. Every two hours, a new zone will become forbidden. I will be making announcements ahead of time so you'll know. I suggest you pay attention. Your lives depend on it." 

Nobody moved or made a sound. Harry didn't even have to look around to know that his classmates felt the same sort of shock and disbelief that he did. Was this for real? 

"Your wands have been confiscated. The survivor will of course be given his or her wand back after the game is over. Until then you will simply have to make due with the weapons you are given. As I mentioned earlier, some of you will get better weapons than others. If you find yourself stuck with a dud, I suggest you try to take the weapon of another student." A pause. "Questions?" 

The students glanced around at one another for a few seconds, until Hermione shakily raised her hand. The supervisor smiled, and nodded at her. 

"What if we simply refuse to do this?" her voice was shaking with fear. Harry admired her bravery for even being able to speak in the first place. 

Mr. Montgomery smiled. "So glad you asked that. If 24 hours passes without a death, then all of the collars are detonated. Everybody dies. Nobody wins. And before anyone asks, we can detonate the collars of anyone foolish enough to attempt escape. Anything else?" 

Hermione shook her head, looking crestfallen. 

"This is so stupid!" Draco Malfoy (Boy 13, Slytherin) stood up, shaking. "Do you have any idea who my father is? If he knew what was going on, he would never stand for this! I can't be part of this!" 

A chuckle from Mr. Montgomery. "Malfoy, is it? Yes, I've heard of you. Think you're above everyone else, do you? You were born, and so the world must bow down and worship you, yes?" His eyes flashed dangerously. "Equality. Nobody gets special treatment. It doesn't matter if you're rich and influential, or poor and downtrodden. You might be a top student, or you might be a delinquent. Nobody is better than anyone else in the eyes of the program. Yes, Mr. Malfoy. I know who your father is. He was one of the easier parents to deal with, by the way. Said that this would be a good test to see what you're really made of." He smiled. "He sent his blessing." 

Malfoy sat back down, eyes unfocused. Harry couldn't even begin to imagine what must have been going through his mind. He almost felt a bit of sympathy toward his nemesis. Almost. 

Mr. Montgomery walked around the room, placing a sheet of paper and a pencil on each desk. "Before we leave, I want everyone to do a little assignment for me. I want you to write down the words 'I will kill' followed by a classmate's name. Do that until all of your classmates are named. If you do not know someone's name, just ask. Are we clear? Good. Get to work." He walked towards the door, and opened it ever so slightly and gestured at someone out in the hallway. A group of the three men who had accompanied Mr. Montgomery in the Great Hall entered, pushing a cart that had what appeared to be the packs on it. 

Harry stared at his paper, sick to his stomach. He couldn't do this. It was just... wrong. Apparently he wasn't the only one who felt that way, for quite a number of his classmates hadn't even picked up their pencils yet. However, some of them had, and were already writing down their lines. 

The supervisor walked back to the front of the classroom, looking over the students. "I see very few of you are writing. I really don't want to have to force anyone." 

Harry was still staring at his paper, hand trembling as he reached to pick up his pencil. He couldn't... 

"I'm not doing this!" Seamus Finnegan (Boy 7, Gryffindor) proclaimed. "You can't make us! Come on, everyone! If we all stick together, we can take him down!" He stood up from his seat. A few other students reluctantly started to get up as well, but stopped when they saw the shiny object in Mr. Montgomery's hand. 

There was a loud bang, and Seamus fell to the floor. A girl screamed, and students began to panic. 

Mr. Montgomery sighed. "I really didn't want to do that. Really. But sometimes it's the only way they'll learn. I hope that no one else will get any bright ideas." He put the gun back into its holster, and resumed to watch over the students. "On the bright side, there's one less name you'll have to write down." 

Now there were very few students who weren't writing anything. One by one, though, they began to write. Harry's hand trembled as he picked up his pencil. He was the last one to start writing. 

After what seemed to be an eternity of torture, everybody was finally finished with his or her 'kill lists'. The mood was somber as they waited for the supervisor to address them. 

"Before I dismiss everyone, I would like to give you the opportunity to ask any questions that might be lingering in your fresh young minds. Remember, ten minutes after the last student leaves, the zone that the school is in becomes forbidden, so you won't be able to ask anything later." 

A few students glanced warily at one another, too afraid to speak up and earn the wizard's wrath. The death of one of their classmates was still fresh in their minds. 

Michael Corner (Boy 2, Ravenclaw) shakily raised his hand. "When is this supposed to begin? I mean... When do we, uh..." 

Mr. Montgomery smiled. "As soon as you step outside of the building. Anything else?" Silence. "Then I suppose I shall dismiss you. Every minute I will call one of your names, and you will choose a bag and leave. Simple as that. Who are we starting with this year?" He looked to one of the men who had brought in the packs, and was handed an envelope. "Boy 7..." He checked the number against the class list on his desk. "Oh, well, he's dead, so I guess we'll start with Girl 7 instead. Frobisher, Victoria!" 

Vicky Frobisher (Girl 7, Gryffindor) stood up, trembling. She cast a tearful look at her classmates before she gingerly picked up a pack and ran crying out of the classroom. 

There was a hollow feeling in Harry's stomach as he finally came to the realization that it was all real. All of his friends and classmates -- they were meant to _kill_ each other. This sort of thing was only supposed to happen in really bad nightmares. So why was it real? 

"Goldstein, Anthony!" 

The next student would be Hermione. Harry tried to catch her eye, wanting to silently plead with her to wait for him and Ron. If they all worked together, maybe they could find a way to break free of the collars and escape. But as her name was called, and she stood up shakily, she didn't even glance at him. 

One by one, names were called, and students marched to the front and chose their packs before disappearing into the unknown. Some were crying, some in shock. But there was no one who seemed to be unaffected. Harry tried to catch the eye of the Gryffindors called before him, hoping that they would get the message and wait. 

Finally, his name was called. Slowly making his way to the front of the class, he picked up his pack and looked back at the rest of his classmates for one last time. Silently pleading with them, hoping that they would understand, he walked out into the dark hallway. It was completely deserted. Carefully clinging to the walls just in case (in case of what?) he somehow made it to the door and stepped outside. 

Nobody. Nobody had bothered to wait for him. There was nothing but the sound of the wind blowing. He walked further out onto the grounds. And then... 

Harry felt something graze his arm, and he jumped to the side. Looking around him, he finally spotted Ernie MacMillan (Boy 12, Hufflepuff) standing on the roof of the school, holding a crossbow in his hands. 

Harry froze, not knowing what exactly to do. He was under attack. By one of his classmates. 

"I won't miss next time," Ernie warned as he loaded another bolt into the crossbow. 

Harry took the time to quickly duck back to the school, pressing up against the wall. He heard Ernie growl from above him and walk to some other part of the roof. It was possible that there was a ladder or a branch or something there. Harry wasn't sure if he should risk making a run for it or not. If he went out into the open, he'd be open season to anyone actually playing. He backed slowly along the wall, not really watching where he was going. And then he tripped. 

"Ow, my butt," he stood up, rubbing his backside on which he had landed. Looking down to see what he had tripped over, he saw the body of Diana Moon (Girl 14, Gryffindor). She had been shot in the forehead with a crossbolt. 

"Oh, god..." he muttered as he made his way back to the entrance. If he stayed here, he'd be killed. Or someone else would be. And any second now, the next student would be exiting the school. He had to warn them. 

"Don't move." Ernie aimed the crossbow at Harry's head, finger hovering over the trigger. 

Harry swallowed, and tried pleading with the other boy. "Ernie, wait. You don't have to do this. Please hear me out. If we all stick together we can beat this. Just please, put down the crossbow. We're all friends here, right?" 

"Friends? They don't stick around. I just wanted to show them what I got, and they ran. Just ran. Wouldn't even hear me out." Ernie's eyes had a crazed look in them. "They all scattered, just like... just like... Well, just like something. She didn't run fast enough." He gestured to the corpse around the corner. "Had to kill her. Kill or be killed. I don't want to die." He readied his finger on the trigger. "I don't want to die!" 

It was rather fortunate for Harry that the door of the school opened when it did, distracting Ernie long enough for Harry to tackle him. The most important thing right now was to get the crossbow away from the other boy. 

While the boys were struggling over the weapon, Pansy Parkinson (Girl 15, Slytherin) ran away as fast as she could once she saw what was going on. She didn't get very far before blinding pain tore through her left leg. The crossbow must have gone off. Even so, she would rather brave the woods injured than stick around. So she limped on. 

He was losing the battle. Harry knew that Ernie was bigger than he was -- most of his classmates were -- so the longer this went on, the higher the chance that Harry would be killed. So with one last burst of strength, he was able to wrench the crossbow enough to hit the side of Ernie's head, knocking him out cold. Not bothering to stick around for the other boy to recover and start firing again, Harry fled into the forest. 

**38 students remaining**


	3. To Play the Game

**Not-So-Obligatory Author Note #1** -- I think I should warn everyone now that some of the characters will seem OOC. Some of it is deliberate, but some of it is due to me not having read any of the books in a few months, thus I can't remember how some of the more minor characters act. Hopefully none of the OOC-ness is too blatant, and can be chalked up to the extreme circumstances that the characters go through. Sorry 'bout all of that, now read and review!   
  
**September 2, 1996 -- 3:27 a.m.**   
Morag MacDougal (Girl 12, Ravenclaw) slowed down to a halt as she reached the shoreline. She had wanted to wait for her friends in front of the school, but when someone had fired at her with something, she just took off running and never bothered to look back. Now, she was scared, and felt very alone. Someone was playing already. It chilled her to the bone to think that someone could not only think about doing such a terrible thing, but even go through with actually attacking someone. 

In retrospect, she should probably venture back to the school and try to warn the others. She looked to her watch to try and figure out how much time had passed since she left. She wasn't quite sure what time she left, but she ran straight to wherever she was. However she had no idea of where she was, so that might pose a problem in trying to get back. 

And she would most likely miss the last students leaving if she did. She sat down and sighed in resignation. She'd give anything to be home right now, curled up in her nice warm bed. It would even be nice to discover that she was daydreaming while she was supposed to do detention with Snape or Filch. 

Opening her pack, she did a quick inventory. All of the supplies that were supposed to be there were there. At least Mr. Montgomery hadn't lied about that. There was just something about him she didn't like. Pulling a machete out of her pack, she wondered if it would be enough to protect her in case there was anyone else. She hoped it would. 

When had she become so paranoid? These were her friends and classmates. Surely most of them would realize that if everyone worked together, they might find a way to get out of this. And just because one person was playing didn't mean anyone else was. 

She watched the gentle waves to the sea crash against the shore. For a brief moment, she pondered whether she should just try to swim for it and hope she reached land before she drowned. But then she remembered Mr. Montgomery telling them that if they tried to escape, their collars would detonate. So it looked as though that weren't an option. 

They didn't have very many options. 

Lost in her thoughts, she failed to notice a shadow approaching from behind her until it was too late. She struggled with the wire that had been encircled around her neck, trying in vain to pry it loose. Sometime during the struggle she dropped her machete. If she could only reach it... But first she had to get the wire off her neck. It wasn't easy, what with her fingers becoming all wet and slippery. Why were they wet? Oh, that's blood. She might've laughed if she had enough breath to do so, but as it was, she was having a hard time staying awake. She tried to hit whoever was behind her, but she was too weak and it wouldn't have made a difference anyway. 

Theodore Nott (Boy 14, Slytherin) watched as the girl fell lifelessly to the ground. He wasn't certain about the reliability of such a weapon. He would have preferred something a little bit different, like maybe one of those gun things the instructor had. But maybe the garrote wasn't as bad as he thought. He'd still prefer a better weapon, though. 

He walked over to Morag's pack and started rummaging through it. He wasn't sure how long he would be on this island, so it might be best to stock up on rations just in case. And if he didn't someone else would. 

After removing the contents of Morag's pack and putting them into his own, he picked up the fallen machete and contemplated his reflection in the blade that glistened with blood. It was a start. 

**37 students remaining**   
  
**September 2 -- 3:36 a.m.**   
Justin Finch-Fletchley (Boy 6, Hufflepuff) prided himself on being a Hufflepuff through and through. To him, there was no virtue more sacred than loyalty. Sure, most people would scoff at him and go on about how something else was more important. Gryffindors went all out for bravery. Unfortunately, bravery was just another word for stupidity. Intelligence was all well and good, but without a focus, someone could just as easily end up as the next dark lord as they could the next pillar of light. He wouldn't even dignify the Slytherins and their virtues (or lack thereof) with a second thought. No. Everything was held together by loyalty. It was the epitome of good. After all, what good person acts selfishly and would be willing to sell out their own mothers for a Sickle? 

As the last of the boys to leave, he expected to find his friends waiting for him. After all, they were Hufflepuffs, and Hufflepuffs were loyal. So when no one was waiting for him outside, he frowned. Had they already forgotten their loyalty? Maybe he should search for them and help remind them. It was dangerous out there. There was no telling who might be playing or not. Most likely the honorless Slytherins were, and maybe a few Ravenclaws. All brains, no hearts. The Gryffindors were certain to gather in groups, foolishly clinging on to the hope that everything would be all right in the end, so long as they presented a unified front and charged stupidly into battle without thinking. They would be no problem. 

Sighing, he knelt down on the ground and rummaged through his pack. Aside from his supplies, he found a set of ten throwing knives. Wonderful. He had no idea how to throw knives. He sighed and checked his watch. Soon the last student would be exiting the building. An honorless Slytherin. He supposed that if he let her go now, then at some later time, the snake might show its fangs and bite him on the ass. So it was best to destroy it before it grew fangs. 

He heard a groan off to the side. Looking toward the sound, he saw the fallen Ernie MacMillan (Boy 12, Hufflepuff) who had just come to and was now trying to get up. So one of his friends did remember how to be loyal! Justin smiled. It saved him the trouble of looking. Carrying his pack in one hand, and a throwing knife in the other, he approached his friend, carefully eyeing the crossbow on the ground next to him. It wouldn't be very nice for him to be attacked. Not before he found the others, and certainly not by a loyal friend. 

"Need some help, friend?" Justin asked, standing near the other boy, but making sure to keep the crossbow closer to himself. In times like these, loyalties are often shattered. Not everyone valued loyalty as much as he did. 

Ernie slowly stood up, holding his hand to his head as he did so. "Son of a..." He looked up and noticed Justin for the first time. His eyes opened wide and he lunged for his crossbow. 

When he was halfway there, the throwing knife in Justin's hand flew into Ernie's gut. Seconds later, the knife pulled out of the wound and slit its way against his throat. Ernie's eyes opened wide as he looked up at his friend. 

Justin smiled. "I wouldn't be a very loyal friend if I just let you go off and get killed by some nasty Slytherin, now would I?" He kicked the dying boy away from him, and bent over to pick up the crossbow. After feeling how his new weapon felt, he smiled, and searched for Ernie's pack. Finding it nearby, he picked it up, and with all of his new toys, ran into the forest. 

**36 students remaining**   
  
**September 2 -- 3:37 a.m.**   
Tracey Davis (Girl 6, Slytherin) froze in the doorway of the school when she saw the scene before her. Just as she was exiting the building, she heard voices, and then saw one of her classmates stab another one. She didn't dare to move or make a sound, lest the killer turn his attention to her. So she clung as close to the doorway as possible, hoping that he would go away soon. In less than 10 minutes, the school would become a forbidden zone. She wanted to be as far away from it as possible when that happened. So silently she pleaded for the boy to leave. 

After what to her seemed like forever, the boy finally ran into the forest to the west. Tracey sighed with relief, then ran as fast as she could into the residential section to the south. Maybe she could hide out in one of the houses for a while. Although she wished that at least one of her housemates were with her, she couldn't blame them for not sticking around. There was at least one person playing. 

Finding a house that looked like it might be good to hide in, she tried twisting the doorknob. To her surprise, the door opened right away. Didn't anyone lock their doors anymore? Then again, if everyone had been evacuated, maybe they just didn't have time to lock their door. 

Locking the door behind her, she stepped inside and looked around. She smiled as she saw a couch in the living room. Sitting down, she gave herself a few minutes to catch her breath and relax before she opened her pack to see what she had. Food, water, other supplies. Hello? She recognized the heavy metal object that she pulled out of her pack as being some sort of gun. She smiled. This would definitely protect her. 

Unlike most of the other Slytherins -- who had deemed it a waste of time -- Tracey took Muggle Studies back at school. Back in fourth year, they had discussed many different types of muggle weaponry. Looking back, she wished that she had paid more attention in class, but at least she remembered enough to know that guns needed bullets, or else they became nothing more than an expensive paperweight. Checking her pack, she found a few dozen boxes of bullets, along with instructions on how to operate a gun. That was good, because it was something they hadn't been taught in class. Upon reading the instructions further, she discovered that her gun was a machine gun. She smiled. Nobody would dare attack her so long as she had this. 

There was a creak upstairs that made her blood run cold. There was someone in the same house as her. Quickly loading the gun (with a lot of help from the instructions), Tracey slowly stood up, careful to be quiet. If there was someone in here with her, then she needed to be sure that they didn't know she was there. 

One step at a time, she aimed the gun ahead of her, carefully looking for anything that shouldn't be there. If there was one thing Tracey was good at, it was being quiet. She'd had years of practice as a child. Her father was a mean drunk, and would lash out at anything he noticed. Unfortunately, he got drunk a lot, so she spent most of her childhood learning to escape notice. When she went to Hogwarts, few of her classmates or teachers took notice of her. That suited her just fine. She had grown to enjoy the solitude. 

Creak! Tracey froze where she was. Dammit! One of the stairs was creaky. Any hope of the other person not knowing she was there was now gone. 

"Who's there?" asked a male voice from the upstairs bedroom. Unsure of whether to answer or not, Tracey simply kept quiet, trying to sneak the rest of the way upstairs. Even though he knew she was there, she still had the advantage. 

"I know someone's out there," the boy continued. "I'm- I'm not playing. So please. Just show yourself and we can talk this over." 

Finally recognizing the voice as belonging to Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor), Tracey lowered her gun and decided to speak up. After all, he was harmless. "Do you promise?" 

"Uh huh." 

Slowly, Tracey made her way to the room. Once she got there, though, a confused expression drew on her face. There wasn't anyone in there. 

Once she had passed the door he was hiding behind, Neville hit the girl as hard as he could with the lamp he was holding. He was even better at hiding and keeping quiet than Tracey was. He had seen her earlier when she had removed the machine gun from her pack. Lucky girl. All he got was a bulletproof vest. Although that would probably come in useful later, an actual weapon would be better. Placing a foot on Tracey's back just in case she woke up soon, he took the gun from her. After savoring the feeling of the weapon in his hands for a few moments, he aimed down and fired. 

**35 students remaining**   
  
**September 2 -- 3:51 a.m.**   
Next door, Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) hugged her knees closer to her chest. After she had left the school, she had waited for Ron and Harry to emerge. She had tried to get Neville's attention as he emerged, but he just ignored her and ran south. Then Ernie MacMillan came out and started firing crossbolts at people. She hid behind some shrubs near the school, trying to stay out of sight while waiting for her friends. But then Diana Moon had been shot, and Hermione panicked. She just ran for it and didn't stop until she had entered the house she was currently in. She deeply regretted it now, but it was too late to go back now. The school was now a forbidden zone, and they would both be long gone by now, assuming they were alive, even. 

She felt absolutely horrible inside. If they were dead it would be her fault for not waiting for them. She was just so scared. 

She didn't have much to protect herself. Aside from the promised supplies, she found that her weapon was a can of pepper spray. Although it was better than nothing, and somewhat reassuring that she could simply incapacitate anyone that tried to attack, rather than injure or kill. Even so, she'd have to actually get close to someone to use it. And there was at least one student out there with a gun. 

Minutes ago, she heard the unmistakable sound of a spray of bullets fired all too close to the house she was hiding in. It sounded as though it had come from next door. She didn't dare peek out the window to see who was responsible, lest they see her and decide to finish her off as well. In a battle between gun and pepper spray, gun would win. 

Her eyes opened wide with realization. Neville had come this way as well. Maybe he was the one who got shot. 

That just made her feel worse, as though she should have tried harder to gain his attention. But it was too late now. All she could do was hide and feel horrible about herself. 

She just hoped that Ron and Harry were still alive. 

**35 students remaining**   
  
**September 2 -- 3:52 a.m.**   
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) wasn't lost; he just had absolutely no idea where he was. Hoping to find either Harry or Hermione waiting for him, but finding only the unconscious Ernie MacMillan, he ran into the forest to the east. At least he thought it was east. It might have been north. There was a lot of forest around the island apparently. So far he hadn't run into anyone, so it wasn't all bad. He wasn't even sure if he could defend himself if he had. 

When he had picked up his pack in the front of the classroom, it had seemed unusually heavy. It couldn't have been the food or other supplies, so it must have been the weapon. He wasn't sure whether muggle weapons were supposed to be so heavy or not, but it made him gain a whole new appreciation to the hardships they went through. 

When he finally opened his pack to see what was inside, he found that he had been bestowed with a flail -- a spiked ball chained to the handle of the weapon. If it didn't weigh half as much as he did, he might appreciate it more. As it was, though, he could barely lift it. Even if he could, he doubted that he'd be able to use it without knocking his brains out in the process. 

As he walked further in whichever direction he was facing, he noticed the trees start to thin out. It looked like he was nearing the end of the forest. In the distance he saw an unusual looking building. Curiosity piqued, he advanced upon it, until he was close enough to read the sign above the door. 'Medical Clinic'. This might be a good place to rest and maybe get supplies. Maybe one of his friends would find this place, too. 

He frowned suddenly, having a vision of his friends stumbling in injured and near death. He hoped that they were safe and all right. He had heard gunshots earlier. Someone was playing, at it was likely that someone had died. He hoped it wasn't his friends. He wanted them to be healthy, so they could all find a way to go back home. 

Entering the building, he took a few minutes to look around to get a general idea of his surroundings. A small waiting room, doors to the side that presumably led to doctor offices and check-up rooms. He sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room, facing the door. From his vantage point, he had a pretty good view of the outside. 

Clenching his fists nervously, he waited for his friends. 

**35 students remaining**   
  
**September 2 -- 3:55 a.m.**   
At the northern most point of the island, Draco Malfoy (Boy 13, Slytherin) sat atop a boulder, overlooking the forest to the south, while occasionally checking a device in his hand. (If he were the least bit familiar with muggle things, he would recognize the device as resembling a PDA, but he wasn't, so it was a moot point.) Standing next to the boulder was Gregory Goyle (Boy 9, Slytherin). Before the class had been dismissed, Draco had sent notes to some of the other Slytherins asking them to meet him there. So far only Goyle had shown up. They were currently waiting for Vincent Crabbe (Boy 4, Slytherin), but would only give him five more minutes before they left. 

Draco didn't like this. He and Goyle must have gotten the worst weapons of the lot. Goyle had received a flare gun, which might do some damage, but was certain to alert everyone else on the island to their position. Draco didn't fare much better. When he pulled his weapon out of the bag, he wasn't quite sure what it was at first. But upon looking at the instructions that came with it, it appeared to be a tracking device of some sort. It had a map of the island on it, and little red dots that represented students. Unfortunately, it didn't identify them by name. Still, such a thing might be useful. So long as he checked it regularly, nobody could take him by surprise. 

He checked the device once more. More dots were becoming stationary, and a few more had gone out. He supposed it couldn't be helped. If he had an actual weapon, he might be playing, too. But as it was, he could only hope that Crabbe would show up soon with a real weapon. 

"Anything yet?" Goyle asked, breaking the silence. 

Draco shook his head. "No one's coming this way. He better not have abandoned us." 

Goyle shrugged, and turned to look to the forest. "He might be dead." 

"Maybe." 

Unlike many of the other students leaving the school, Draco had the foresight to discover what weapon he had _before_ he left the building. Due to that foresight, he was able to discover his tracking device and what it did. And thus, he knew that one of the students was waiting right above him, most likely planning an ambush. He knew the student was right above him due to the way the dots nearly overlapped, and there wasn't anyone right next to him. 

Using the tracking device as his guide, he was able to run to safety before he could be attacked. From his hiding spot, he watched as the next student -- some ugly Hufflepuff girl -- left the building. She was almost hit by a crossbolt, but able to duck into the forest before the attacker could fire another shot. Next out was Theodore Nott, one of the Slytherins Draco had been waiting for. Before Draco could call out to him, Nott broke into a run, zigzagging and making it difficult for him to be attacked properly. Draco followed his movements with the tracking device for a while, but then Nott met with another student, and one of the dots faded out. Draco wasn't sure if it was Nott's dot or not, but he'd rather not face whoever the killer was anyway, so he made his way to the agreed-upon meeting location. 

Once he had gotten there, he watched the tracker more carefully, trying to determine who was leaving the school, and where they were going. It appeared that everyone had left by now, yet no one was coming his way. So he began to lose interest and stare into the distant darkness. When he heard gunshots, though, he started to pay attention again. He wondered whose dot had gone out, and who had been responsible. 

Draco looked at his watch. "He's not coming. Shall we go?" 

Goyle look back to him. "Isn't that a little dangerous, though? Gunshots and all." 

Draco shrugged, and held up his tracker. "Maybe, but at least if we see someone approach, we'll have fair warning. Maybe we'll find better weapons, too." 

Goyle looked doubtful, but ended up relenting. "Maybe we'll find Crabbe." He paused. "If he's even alive." 

Draco nodded, and slid off of the boulder. "The eastern coastline looks clear enough. Most of the students are in the western forest. So long as we're careful, we should be fine. And you have a weapon that you can actually use to defend us. The most I could do is throw this at someone." He paused, then added. "There's a student isolated somewhere in the south-east. Maybe they have a weapon we can use." 

"What if it's the shooter?" 

Draco shook his head. "Whoever it was went west. We should be fine." 

Goyle nodded, and they began their journey east. 

**35 students remaining**


	4. Meetings

**September 2, 1996 -- 3:57 a.m.**   
Vincent Crabbe (Boy 4, Slytherin) was nowhere near as stupid as most people believed him to be. True, he wasn't a genius, but he did have a brain in his head, which was more credit than most people gave him. Most people thought he ranked somewhere between a pile of dirt and a vegetable on the intelligence scale. Nothing could be further from the truth. 

He just preferred people to underestimate him. That gave him an advantage when it came right down to it. If they thought he was stupid, they were more likely to say things in front of him that they normally wouldn't in front of someone they perceived to have a brain. So he could learn things. Study people. Act like the mindless brute, and nobody would know any different. If subtlety was an art, it was one he'd mastered long ago. 

So when he got the note from Draco asking him to meet up at the northern point, he decided not to go. Having known young Malfoy all of his life, Crabbe knew that Draco would just as soon shoot him when his back was turned. The other boy didn't care about anyone except for himself. Besides, he would most likely become a popular target to other students that he had alienated or bullied over the years. Malfoy didn't care about anyone, and nobody cared about him. 

So Crabbe was on his own. He knew the other Slytherin boys would be no help at all. Goyle was too blindly loyal to Malfoy, there was just something downright frightening about Nott, and Zabini kept mostly to himself. Come to think of it, Crabbe didn't think he knew the other boy all that well, despite being roommates for the last five years. 

Currently, Crabbe was traveling southwest through zone G-4. He hadn't any real destination in mind, and wasn't quite sure what he would do if he encountered anyone. His chosen weapon turned out to be a small automatic pistol (Walther PPK 9mm). After carefully reading the instructions on how to use it, he loaded it, and held it at his side. It was heavier than he had expected, but nothing he couldn't handle. He was one of the strongest boys in his class, after all. 

So far he had been lucky and hadn't encountered anyone, but he was worried about what he would do if he encountered whoever had fired those shots earlier. As good as his gun might be, they apparently had a gun capable of firing far more rapidly. He wouldn't stand a chance, unless he was a lot faster than the other guy. Crabbe was convinced the shooter was a guy, because he couldn't imagine any of the girls of his class being cold enough to take part in this. He could, however, imagine a number of boys who might be the shooter. 

That wouldn't do him any good, though. If he started to suspect everyone and anyone of playing, he was sure to grow paranoid and lose his mind. And to survive, he needed to keep his wits about him. 

**35 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 3:59 a.m.**   
Hannah Abbott (Girl 1, Hufflepuff) was the type of girl everyone believed to be sweet and innocent. If she was careful in how she said it, she could say anything she wanted -- no matter how sick or perverted -- and people would forgive her for it, believing that it was either inadvertent, or an innocent question or comment said by someone naïve. That suited her just fine. It gave her a cover to work with, discovering new things that she wouldn't be able to find out if people knew the real her. And people trusted her with their secrets. That was the best part. She had blackmail material on almost all of her fellow students, and even some of the teachers. She lost count long ago on how many people she 'owned'. 

There were a couple of people who knew her secret, but she had so much material on them that if they dared utter even one syllable she could destroy them completely before they closed their mouths. She had no idea where Vicky Frobisher (Girl 7, Gryffindor) had gone off to, nor did she really care. She had contemplated waiting for Mandy Brocklehurst (Girl 3, Ravenclaw), but decided against it. This was something she had to do alone, and it was better to not have to deal with the other girl trailing behind her in tears. And she knew that's exactly what would happen if she had allowed the other girl to join her. She always had been weak. 

Hannah checked her map, trying to determine her exact location. She was somewhere in the residential district, but not entirely sure of where. She had been attracted by the sound of rapid gunfire. Even though there was a chance that the perpetrator was still loitering around somewhere, she was willing to take her chances. If they were smart, they would be long gone, because Hannah knew she couldn't be the only one who came here. And that was what she was hoping on. She was the type of girl who played to win. 

She carried her pack in one hand, and sickle in the other. She wasn't sure how useful her weapon might be yet, but she planned on upgrading soon, so it didn't really matter. She looked at each house as she passed by, hoping to find one that was occupied. Act innocent, plaster on the fake tears, and no one would be the wiser until it was far too late. 

Bingo! She found a house with a broken window. A good place to start. Carefully putting on a tearfully afraid face, she gingerly opened the unlocked door and stepped inside. "H-hello?" she called out, willing her voice to break. "Is-is someone th-there? I just... I-I'm so sc-scared. P-please." 

Tentatively, a boy stepped out from under the kitchen table where he had been hiding. It was Troy Summerby (Boy 17, Hufflepuff), their Quidditch team's seeker. Hannah never really liked him, anyway. Too whiny. He squinted in the darkness, then smiled as he recognized her. "Oh, thank god it's you. I was afraid that whoever had the gun returned." 

Hannah nodded and went over to him, clinging onto him as if for dear life. "You'll protect me, won't you?" 

Troy nodded. "I'll try. All I got was a fork, though, so I don't know how much good it will do." 

"That's all? That's not much." It looked like she wouldn't be able to get a better weapon here after all. Oh, well. 

Troy looked out the window. "Maybe not, but it's all I--" He was unable to finish his sentence due to the sickle embedded in his throat. 

Hannah smiled sweetly, and yanked hard on the sickle, tearing out a chunk of flesh with it as it dislodged from the boy's throat. Troy was dead before he hit the ground. 

"It's your own fault for believing me," she said as she used his robes to wipe the sickle clean. 

**34 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 4:05 a.m.**   
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) sat leaning against the tree, trying to sort through his thoughts. People were playing, and people were dying. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. He could only hope that all of his friends were still alive. 

The not knowing was the hard part. He was worried about his friends. He should have waited just a little bit longer. Maybe if he and Ron joined forces, they could find Hermione and then they could all figure a way off the island. There was no sense in swelling on what-ifs, though. Right now he had to find them. 

There was a rustling in the bushes to his left. Clutching his hunting knife, the weapon he'd been supplied, he looked toward the sound, although he didn't bother to move. Seconds later, Vincent Crabbe emerged, clutching a gun. He locked eyes with Harry, then saw the knife in his hand. 

Neither boy spoke a word, not sure whether to trust the other or not. Harry was tempted to ask where Malfoy and Goyle were -- he rarely saw the other boy out of the presence of the other two -- but kept quiet, lest he irritate the boy with the gun. 

Finally, Crabbe took a few steps back. "I didn't see you, and you didn't see me. Right?" 

Harry blinked, momentarily stunned. "Uh, right." 

Crabbe nodded, took a few more steps back, then turned around and broke into a run. 

Harry sat there with a perplexed expression on his face. What was that all about? It took him a few times of replaying the scene in his mind before he came to a conclusion that seemed to fit. Crabbe wasn't playing, but was unsure as to whether Harry was or not. Having the advantage, Crabbe backed off, but didn't want to turn his back just in case. 

Harry wanted to call after him, but didn't think that would be a good idea. He couldn't know for certain whether his theory was correct, and even if it was, there might be someone else lurking about. In any case, it wasn't safe to stay here any longer. 

Standing up, Harry gathered his things. Instead of just sitting around feeling sorry for himself, it was time to take the initiative and find his friends. 

**34 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 4:15 a.m.**   
It had taken all of her inner strength not to scream out in pain as she removed the crossbolt protruding from the back of her leg. But Pansy Parkinson (Girl 15, Slytherin) had finally been successful, and was now able to sit. She'd been forced to rip a part of her expensive robes off so that she could wrap it around her leg to help stop the bleeding, but she had done it. She cursed herself for being so careless. If she had just hung back for a few seconds longer she wouldn't be in this position. It was too late now, though. 

She tried not to move too quickly as she drew out her map, checking her location. F-5. She hadn't traveled very far away from the school due to the pain. It was better now, but she still wasn't in any shape to travel much. There was a clinic in sector G-9, but that was too far away. She'd probably end up passing out before she got there. She was feeling rather light-headed due to the blood loss. 

Maybe she could try to go there anyway, stopping every now and then to rest. She checked her watch. In less than two hours, the first batch of forbidden zones would be announced. And if the clinic became a forbidden zone before she could get there... 

She was worried that F-5 would become a forbidden zone as well. That's why she wanted to conserve her strength just in case she had to leave. And if she moved around, there was always the risk of encountering someone. All she had to protect herself with was some strange muggle device called a stun gun that was supposed to do just that. Stun someone. Just like the 'Stupefy' spell, only you had to be close to the person to use it. In her condition, she didn't think she'd be able to get close enough. 

So this was where she would be put to the test. She knew how to survive in the wilderness -- a talent that most people would be shocked to know she possessed -- so that's how she would view it. She was lost, injured, and there wasn't anyone around who could help her. Normally, the best thing to do would be to stay put and she'd be found. But in this case, she didn't want to be found. Not yet, anyway. The best thing for her to do would be to keep moving. It would hurt like hell, but she'd have to. So the best thing to do would be to head toward the clinic. 

She slowly got up, trying to keep her weight off of her injured leg. It wasn't easy, but she made it. Standing on her undamaged leg, she carefully bent down and picked up her pack. And with that, she headed north toward E-5. 

**34 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 4:23 a.m.**   
Daphne Greengrass (Girl 9, Slytherin) had been wandering around aimlessly for the past hour, looking for a good place to hide out. Unlike many of her classmates, she hadn't bothered to stick around the school to wait for anyone. She found most of the other students to be a bunch of asinine nitwits. Especially her housemates. All they could go on about was a bunch of nonsense on the purity of their blood, and why they should purge the world of those less pure then they. However, for all they went on about it, they showed absolutely no refinement or elegance. If they wished to be treated as nobility, they should act noble. 

Commoners were necessary for the system of nobility to remain intact, after all. If there weren't any commoners around to do the dirty work, then the nobles would have to do it themselves, and that would be rather less than noble. Daphne had tried to get the others to understand, but like the boors they were, they either wouldn't or couldn't listen to reason. Their loss, then. 

She was currently wandered sector I-7, due south of where the earlier gunfire had been. As such, she figured that she'd be safe. Most of the students would be hiding in the forest or in the residential district. Here there was nothing but beach and rocks. It was rather dangerous to be wandering around in the open, but Daphne didn't care. From a young age, she had been trained how to fight with swords. That was how nobles of days long past had fought. It was honorable, and it took actual skill to accomplish. These days, though, most people favored weapons that did all the work for them. Such as the gun used to kill that commoner back in the classroom. That took no skill. Even a monkey could fire a gun. 

The moonlight glinted off of the blade of Daphne's katana. She wasn't overly familiar with fighting with a katana, but couldn't really have hoped for a better weapon under the circumstances. So long as she kept her senses sharp, she'd be able to detect someone approaching before they could spot her. She would hide, bide her time, and strike before they knew what hit them. It wouldn't even matter if they were holding a gun or not. She would be ready. 

Carefully trying to avoid slipping on the wet rocks, she headed west to a cluster of small boulders that would make the perfect hiding spot. She thought about trying to sneak in a little sleep, but with the announcement less than two hours away, she didn't dare. If she slept through it, she would have no way of knowing what zones were forbidden. Besides, someone might try to kill her in her sleep, the cravenly barbarians. 

She settled down between two rocks that gave her the ability to know of others' approach, yet remain hidden from view. She almost yawned, but was able to catch herself in time. Mustn't sleep. Must stay alert. 

She was sure she couldn't have nodded off for too long, because it was still dark out. But when she opened her eyes again, she could see someone approaching. She couldn't quite make out who they were because of the darkness. She quickly ducked behind the boulder, hoping that she hadn't been spotted. 

Careless! She silently cursed herself as she held her sword ready for battle. Carefully, she tried to peer around the boulder, to determine the other person's position. Strange, there was no one there. 

That didn't mean the coast was clear, though. They could be hiding amongst the rocks as well. She hadn't sensed them do so, which meant that they were good at sneaking. If so, then fighting amongst the rocks would be dangerous. She'd have to lure them out into the open. 

She sprinted out, quickly turning around and facing the rocks. "Show yourself!" she shouted, ready to strike. 

From behind the rocks emerged Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor), a boy who never could seem to do anything right. He had taken his robes off, and had them draped over his arms, which were folded awkwardly across his chest. 

Daphne scoffed at the opponent before her, and lowered her sword ever so slightly. "You? And here I was worried. What are you doing, sneaking around like that?" 

"Just looking for someone. I figured it was better than being in the open like you." He glanced at her katana briefly, then smirked slightly as he looked back up. "You won't last long with that." 

Daphne's eyes narrowed. How dare he insult her like that? "Like you're one to talk. You're not even carrying a weapon." 

Neville smiled as though greatly amused. It occurred to Daphne that she couldn't see if he was carrying anything in his hands or not. Before she could react, he had removed his robe with one hand, while aiming his Ingram at her with the other. 

Daphne's eyes widened with realization. "It was you!" she proclaimed, seconds before her body was sprayed with bullets. 

Neville smiled as she fell. "Yeah. It was me." 

**33 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 4:51 a.m.**   
Just mere minutes ago, the awful sound of rapid gunfire had gone off again, sending shivers down the spine of Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor). She wasn't sure whether to be grateful or not that the assailant was no longer next door, because it meant that someone else had fallen. They were still horribly close, but at least they weren't next door. 

Trying to keep as close to the floor as possible, Hermione inched her way to the door. She knew that if she stayed where she was, it would be only a matter of time before someone killed her. She wanted to see her friends one last time before she died, but first she had to find them. After studying the map carefully, she had determined that heading west would be the best course of action. To the north was the school, which was a forbidden zone now. Even if she went around it, she would still have to choose between west and east. There was far too much open space eastward, and the south was completely out of the question. 

She held her pepper spray in one hand as she opened the door with the other. After taking a few moments to make sure no one was going to burst inside, she picked up her pack with her free hand and ran as fast as she could outside. She had never been much of a religious person, but right then all she could do was pray to God that she wouldn't encounter anyone before she could get to the forest in the west. 

**33 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 5:07 a.m.**   
There was a cliff that ran down the eastern shore of E-9. A pair of students sat on the edge of said cliff, dangling their legs over the edge. They were Dean Thomas (Boy 18, Gryffindor) and Lisa Turpin (Girl 20, Ravenclaw). Like many teenagers before them, they believed themselves to be in love. Never mind the fact that they had only been dating for the past four months. They knew it was true love. One just knew. 

They sat there in silence as they watched the sun rise. Although sunsets were usually more romantic, sunrises had a certain breathtaking quality to them as well. Usually only adults could truly appreciate said quality, but those who were in love could do so as well. 

Dean had waited for her outside the school, even though it was quite possible that the unconscious Ernie MacMillan would come to and attack. He kept himself out of sight of the others, lest someone approach him and rob him of his chance to meet up with _her_. He couldn't bear the thought of living without her by his side, but didn't want her fragile spirit tainted with the stain of death. She felt them same way. So after they met up with one another, they decided that if they were to die, they should die together, and do so beautifully and romantically. After the sun rose, they would leap off the cliff and let the sea carry away their remains. They wouldn't die the ugly deaths that their classmates would. 

As the sun discovered its place in the morning sky, they looked to one another one last time and jumped. They knew they would find another in the next lifetime, or whatever else was waiting. It was meant to be. 

It was destiny. 

**31 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 5:16 a.m.**   
Harry had been rather surprised to find the supply store where he had. One minute, he had been running through the forest, and the next he had come across a clearing with a road. By that road he had found the store. It was good to know that he was out of the woods, at least. 

Not wanting to expose himself for too long, he dashed to the building, hoping to use it for cover just in case. He couldn't see inside the shop to check if anyone else was in there or not, due to how dirty the windows were. But he would take what he could get. Making sure to look around him for people, he tested the doorknob, which was miraculously unlocked. Sighing with relief, he opened the door and hurried inside. 

It looked like the residents had been evacuated long before. Most of the items on the shelves were gathering dust. He could smell that something had gone rotten. He doubted he would find anything edible. Nevertheless, it looked like a good place to hide out for the time being. 

Checking to make sure that he was alone, he went behind the counter and sat. There was a door not quite directly behind him. If anyone entered, all he would have to do was reach up and open it, and he could slip out before they realized he was there. Perfect. 

**31 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 5:26 a.m.**   
Draco Malfoy (Boy 13, Slytherin) and Gregory Goyle (Boy 9, Slytherin) were currently in D-9, heading ever so closer to their destination. The area was far too open for Goyle's tastes, but Draco was constantly reassuring him that he didn't see any students near them on his tracking device. Goyle wasn't sure he entirely trusted that assessment, though. Draco hadn't mentioned two students who had been in E-9 until their dots faded out. Who knew how many others could be up ahead? 

Earlier, Draco had mentioned that whoever had fired the shots earlier in the night was heading west. But when there were more gunshots not even an hour ago, they sounded like they were coming more from the east. It was quite possible that the shooter was heading in the same direction as they were. With only a flare gun to protect them, they wouldn't stand a chance. 

As if sensing the other boy's unease, Draco turned around to face Goyle. "Would you relax? There's no one around. I checked." He showed Goyle the tracker's screen, which showed that the two of them were nowhere near another student. 

That didn't ease Goyle's worry. "But what about the shooter? You said he was headed west!" 

Draco checked the tracker and frowned. "He must have doubled back. I guess I wasn't paying attention..." He smiled apologetically at the worried Goyle. "But we'll know if someone's coming or not, so just relax." 

Goyle still looked doubtful, but relented enough for the two of them to continue on with their journey. To be perfectly honest, Draco wasn't even sure which dot was the shooter's anymore. He had lost track about an hour ago. When more gunfire rang out, he tried frantically to find out which dot was responsible, but by then it was too late. He would just have to keep his guard up until then. 

**31 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 5:34 a.m.**   
Hermione had drastically underestimated the distance it would take for her to get to the forest cover in the west. She didn't like traveling in the light, but there was no other choice. She couldn't stay in the open for long. 

She wondered just how long she had been running for. So far her prayers had been answered: She hadn't encountered anyone else, although it was only a matter of time before that would change. Her body was starting to ache. It simply wasn't used to running long distances at top speed. She had been forced to stop a few times to catch her breath, and let her body rest for a short while. But she couldn't stay for long. Not while there was all that openness. 

Right now her goal was the building she saw ahead of her. She wasn't quite sure what it was exactly, but it looked like a good place to rest properly, so it hardly made a difference. She broke into one last sprint, hoping she could make it there before her body collapsed with exhaustion. 

With every step she took, the building seemed to be further and further away. Her body was reaching its breaking point. But finally, she made it. She paused only briefly to throw open the door and enter. 

Once inside, she closed the door and slid down onto the floor, panting heavily. She hadn't even bothered to check what kind of building she was in, but she didn't really care. After she took a few seconds to settle in, she took her water bottle out of her pack and was about to take a much needed drink when she heard the sound of someone moving up ahead. 

Panicked, she stood up, ready to bolt if need be. "Who's there?" she asked breathlessly. She didn't think she'd make it very far if she had to start running again. 

From behind the counter, Harry stood up, recognizing the voice as belonging to his friend. "Hermione?" 

"Harry?" Hermione smiled with relief. 

Harry jumped over the counter, and the two of them ran to one another and hugged, glad to see a friendly face at long last. 

**31 students remaining**


	5. Allies

**September 2, 1996 -- 5:59 a.m.**   
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) was keeping watch over the front door as Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) took a much needed rest. After the two of them met up, she had practically fainted from exhaustion. He had promised to wake her in time for the morning announcement that would be in about a minute or so. He didn't want to wake her, though. She looked peaceful sleeping, and she had been so tired when she had come in earlier. But she'd be rather angry with him if he didn't, so he gently tried to rouse her from sleep. 

"Hermione, wake up." She stirred a little, but didn't wake. "They'll be making the announcement soon." 

She began to wake up when Mr. Montgomery's voice boomed cheerfully over the island. "Good morning, my pets! This is your supervisor, Mr. Montgomery! It's now 6 a.m., so wakey wakey." 

Hermione's eyes flew open and she sat up straight, glancing to Harry worriedly. 

The voice continued, with the same cheerfulness that enraged Harry. "I see you've been busy little beavers last night. You can't imagine how joyful that makes me. Now, then. The dead. First off, Boy 12, Ernie MacMillan." 

Harry's stomach lurched. Ernie hadn't been dead when he had left. Someone must have finished him off after Harry left. Or maybe when the school became forbidden his collar blew up. It sickened Harry to know that he was responsible for someone's death, even if it was inadvertent. 

"Next, we have Boy 17, Troy Summerby and Boy 18, Dean Thomas. Moving on to the girls we have Girl 6, Tracey Davis; Girl 9, Daphne Greengrass; Girl 12, Morag MacDougal; Girl 14, Diana Moon; and finally Girl 20, Lisa Turpin. Keep it up at this rate, and it's quite possible that we'll have a winner by midnight!" 

Harry was stunned. Eight of his classmates were dead. No, nine. Seamus had died before they even left the classroom. Harry exchanged a glance with Hermione, who was crying. 

"Now I'll announce the forbidden zones, so take out your maps and mark them, everybody. First off, in one hour's time -- that's 7 a.m. for those who can't tell time or count -- we have sector H-6." 

H-6 was where the bulk of the residential section was located, and where Hermione had been hiding out previously. 

"At 9 a.m. we have A-4 becoming forbidden, and G-2 will round things out at 11 a.m. You might want to leave these areas as soon as you can, my pets. I'll see some of you at noon!" 

With that, the voice stopped. The two exchanged glances, then Hermione stood up, wiping the tears off of her face. "Ron's still alive. We have to find him." 

Harry nodded, and got up as well. "We can't just wander around aimlessly, though. All I have is a knife. I don't think I can protect us with just this. Someone out there has a gun..." 

Hermione broke down crying again. "They were right next door! I was hiding and they were right next door!" She grabbed onto him for support as he looked at her, stunned. 

He remembered hearing the shots earlier. All he had known then was that they came from somewhere in the southeast. He realized than that it must have been from the residential section. Checking his map, he saw how very close they were to there. The assailant might be heading their way right this instant. 

"We'll go north. Ron might be hiding in the forest. We'll find him. I promise." 

Hermione nodded, wiping her tears once again. "I hope so." 

Together, they walked outside. 

**31 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 6:12 a.m.**   
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that if he slept, he wouldn't wake up ever again. Occasionally he'd drift off, but would awaken almost immediately. As such, he was feeling rather grouchy. 

He had drifted off when Mr. Montgomery had made the morning announcement. Ron had awakened in time to catch the forbidden zones being listed, but had no idea who had died. He cursed under his breath. He was being careless. 

He made sure to mark down the forbidden zones on his map. He wasn't near any of them. Good. Maybe, if he hid in one of the rooms toward the back, he might be able to catch some sleep before the noon announcement was made. 

Any thoughts of sleep he might have had were quickly cast aside as his ears picked up the sound of someone moving around outside. Getting down onto the ground, he crawled over to his pack, and slowly took out his flail. He still wasn't sure if he would be able to use it, but he had no choice. He wished that he had explored the clinic more the night before. He might have been able to find a more suitable weapon to defend himself with. Too late now, though. 

He was just barely able to enter through the door that led to the doctors' offices before the main door opened, and two boys entered. They were Draco Malfoy (Boy 13, Slytherin) and Gregory Goyle (Boy 9, Slytherin). Ron silently cursed his luck that it would be them, of all people, to show up. Not wasting any time, he looked down the hall he was in to find an exit, or at least somewhere else he could hide. They were certain to look this way eventually. There were many doors, but none were marked as an exit, so he ducked through the first door he could find. 

Draco grinned. So whoever was here wanted to play cat and mouse, eh? It didn't really matter. The cat would win anyway. And he was in a rather catty mood, so he'd play along. Gesturing silently for Goyle to follow him, he followed his prey. 

Ron wished he had chosen a different room. The one he was in was rather small, and had a strange smell to it. There weren't any windows, so it was completely dark inside. Even if the lights had been working, he still wouldn't have turned them on. Not when there was the risk of someone seeing them. He hoped that they would go away and leave him alone, but knew that he probably wouldn't be so lucky. He wasn't sure how to wield a flail, but he held it with both hands, ready to attack if they opened the door. 

After a few minutes had passed, the door opened. Ron swung the flail awkwardly, hitting the doorframe. Damn! 

Malfoy had enough foresight to know that he and Goyle should stand back once they opened the door to the supply closet. A good thing, too, as the weapon the mouse held looked rather nasty. But wait, the mouse wasn't a mouse. It was a weasel. 

Draco's grin widened, as he stepped into the doorway. "I was hoping it would be you. Well, actually, I was hoping it would be mudblood Granger, but oh well." 

Ron knew he wouldn't have enough time to swing the flail again, so he let go of it and grabbed the nearest object he could find, which was a bottle of some sort. Nothing to lose, he threw it at Malfoy. 

He was lucky that his aim was slightly off and that it hit the doorframe to the side of Malfoy's head. If it hadn't, it wouldn't have broken, and Malfoy wouldn't have been doused with acid. 

Draco screamed, and backed up blindly, dropping the tracker as he brought his hands up to his smoldering face. Goyle took one look at his suffering friend, then fired the flare gun into the closet. Due to the angle he was at, he hadn't gotten a clear shot, but it was enough to graze Ron's left side, and set fire to the room. 

Ron doubled over with pain. He wouldn't die here. Not by them, not yet. Summoning all of his remaining strength, he grabbed the handle of the flail while Goyle was reloading, and swung. It hurt like hell, and he was sure his injury would only be worse, but it was better than dying. 

By some miracle, his aim was true this time. Goyle fell to the floor, his skull shattered by the heavy spiked ball. Ron wasted no time. He shoved the screaming Malfoy aside and ran out of the burning closet back into the waiting room. Damn! He left his pack behind! But there was no way he was going to go back for it now. He would just have to find a way to get by without it. 

So he ran back into the forest. Injured, with no weapon, no food, no water. 

And no map. 

**30 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 6:21 a.m.**   
Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) had been walking north through section G-9 when he had heard screaming coming from the clinic. Since he was passing by anyway, he figured that he might as well investigate. He had nowhere else he had to be. 

Upon entering, he noticed that there was smoke coming from the direction the screaming was coming from. Silently, he pushed open the door, and saw things just as Ron Weasley had left them. Flames were emerging from the supply closet, dancing by the fallen body of Gregory Goyle. The once-proud Draco Malfoy was stumbling around blindly, screaming. Neville smirked. It was all rather comical. 

For a brief moment, he contemplated whether or not he should just leave them there. But the clinic might come in useful later, and it wouldn't do to have it burn down. He was about to take a step forward when he saw some strange device at his feet. It was Draco's tracker. Neville picked it up, and pondered over it briefly. He had a job to finish first, though. 

Aiming his Ingram at Malfoy, he let loose with a fresh spray of bullets. The other boy stopped his screaming and slumped to the floor. One of the dots on the tracker screen went out. Neville smiled, as he realized the implications. First things first, though. 

Further down the hall was fire extinguisher. Neville hoped it still worked. 

**29 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 6:24 a.m.**   
Harry stopped in his tracks as he heard the sound of machine gun fire once again. He looked to Hermione, who nodded. It was the same person as before. From the sound of it, the shooter was on the east side of the island, far from where they were. Harry wasn't consoled much by that thought, because it just meant that another classmate had died. He highly doubted that the shooter was just firing into the air. Someone was playing to win. He wondered briefly who it was, but didn't dare voice his thoughts out loud. 

Before they could continue their trek, there was a rustling in the bushes. They froze, and turned toward the source. Harry couldn't see anything, but that didn't mean that someone wasn't there. Just as he was going to investigate, a bunch of ravens flew out from the bushes. Harry sighed with relief, then turned to Hermione... 

...And froze. Standing about twenty feet away was Zacharias Smith (Boy 16, Hufflepuff). 

Hermione followed Harry's gaze and turned around. This didn't look good. Was Zacharias playing or not? 

Harry's eyes fell on the hatchet Zacharias was holding. Subconsciously, Harry's hand went toward the knife he had tucked into his belt. 

That did it. Zacharias charged toward them, hatchet held high. Harry pushed Hermione into the bushes, then raised his pack to shield himself. The contents tumbled onto the ground as the bag split. The palm of Harry's left hand suddenly hurt. The hatchet was getting through! 

"No!" Hermione shouted from the bushes, fresh tears in her eyes. 

Zacharias looked at her, pulling back for a second strike. Without warning, he swung at Harry again, who managed to parry the hatchet with his knife. But Zacharias was stronger. He forced Harry to back up while their blades were locked. Harry wasn't going to die that easily, though. He ducked as Zacharias overpowered him and sent the knife flying onto the ground. As the hatchet was raised again, Harry grabbed the boy's arms, trying to twist them enough so the other boy would lose his grip. All the while, he kept going backwards, half-pulling the other boy. 

He lost his footing. As they fell down a small cliff (it was only about as high as a one-story house), all Harry could do was hope that Hermione would forgive him for dying and leaving her alone again. 

The breath was knocked out of him when he finally landed in a small field. Not a pleasant feeling. It took a few seconds for it to register in his mind that he was still alive. It took a few more seconds to register that he needed to get up before Zacharias did. 

Jumping to his feet, he looked around for the other boy. He hadn't gotten up yet. Harry was about to turn to run when he noticed the hatchet sticking out of the other boy's forehead. He felt the sudden urge to vomit. It wasn't so much from the grotesque scene before him, but more the fact that he had killed someone. He had twisted the other boy's arms. He had pulled the boy off the cliff with him. It was all his fault... 

"Harry!" Hermione shouted from the forest he had just vacated. She was looking for him... 

That's right! He had to protect her! He couldn't just stay here. It sickened him to do so, but he knew he needed a weapon. His had been lost somewhere on the forest floor. 

Closing his eyes, he placed his hands on the handle of the hatchet and pulled. There was a disgusting sound as it pulled clear. Harry fell back, the hatchet beside him. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't suppress the urge to vomit any longer. 

He wiped his mouth after he had finished expelling the contents of his stomach. Hoping that he would be able to stand, he picked up the hatchet and slowly got up... 

...And faced the barrel of a gun. 

**28 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 6:26 a.m.**   
Lavender Brown (Girl 4, Gryffindor) ran through the forest, trying not to make a sound. It was dangerous, but she had to escape. The scene she had just witnessed replayed itself in her mind. 

She had been hiding in some bushes that surrounded the outskirts of the field when she saw him. Harry Potter pulling the hatchet out of Zacharias Smith's forehead. Her eyes widened in horror. It took her a few seconds to process the information in her mind, but when she saw the red blood dripping from the hatchet, it finally clicked. Harry had killed Zacharias. 

So she ran into the forest, covering her mouth with one hand and carrying her pack with the other. She hoped that she hadn't been noticed, but so far there were no sounds of anyone following her. She couldn't help but wonder how many others he might have killed. 

**28 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 6:26 a.m.**   
Harry locked eyes with Michael Corner (Boy 2, Ravenclaw). Michael's eyes had a crazed look in them, and his hands were trembling. His face was incredibly pale. Before Harry had time to react, the gun went off -- and thankfully missed. Harry wasn't certain he'd be so lucky the next time it went off, and there wasn't anytime to escape, and ducking wouldn't do much good at such close range. 

"Drop it!" a voice yelled from the distance. Harry open his eyes to see Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) pointing a shotgun at Michael. 

Michael laughed and aimed his gun at Blaise. Before he could fire, though, the shotgun went off, tearing his right arm off in a spray of blood. Michael shrieked, then lunged for his fallen arm, taking the gun into his left hand. Blaise pumped the shotgun. 

"I said stop!" 

Michael shot at Blaise, who didn't even have to duck to avoid being hit. The shotgun erupted again, and Michael crumbled to the ground, a gaping hole where his stomach should be. 

Harry stared at the corpse before him, only breaking out of his trance at the sound of the shotgun being pumped once more. He looked blankly at Blaise, barely registering the fact that there was a shotgun being aimed at him. 

"Drop your weapon," Blaise commanded. Harry hadn't even realized that he was holding the hatchet still. He let it fall to the ground. 

"Harry!" Hermione appeared on the edge of the cliff. "I--" Blaise aimed his shotgun at her. 

"Don't!" Harry shouted. "She's with me! We're not playing!" 

Blaise looked to Harry, then to Hermione. Finally, he lowered his gun and gestured to Michael's corpse. "First things first. I had no choice but to shoot him. I told him to stop, and gave him ample chance, and he shot at me. Understand?" 

Harry looked down at Michael. If Blaise hadn't been there to intervene, then Harry would be dead now. Looking back up at Blaise, he slowly nodded. "I understand." 

Blaise nodded, then bent down and picked the gun out of Michael's hand. He stood up straight and looked at Harry. "How exactly do you figure you're gonna survive this if you can't do what needs to be done?" At Harry's confused look, he continued. "I mean, there's people playing out there. You heard the announcement this morning. People are dying. That means people are playing. Maybe they're scared, maybe they're not." He handed the gun to Harry. "I don't want to get killed because you can't do what needs to be done. Capishe?" 

Harry nodded. "Got it." 

Blaise smiled. "Then let's get ourselves out of the open." 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 6:37 a.m.**   
Padma Patil (Girl 16, Ravenclaw) kept vigil over her twin -- Parvati Patil (Girl 17, Gryffindor) -- as she slept. They had heard gunfire earlier, which was rather worrisome. Thankfully, none of it sounded too close. 

They were located in a small church in E-8. They had come here after arguing briefly over what course of action to take. Parvati had wanted to call out to as many people as possible, using the megaphone she had been supplied as her weapon. Padma wasn't so sure. From the sound of it, there were people playing out there. She didn't want to alert them to their position. Even though the grenades Padma had received would be more than enough to deal with any attacker, she didn't want to use them. She'd never be able to live with herself knowing that she had killed someone, even in self-defense. 

Tired, they had gone into the church for some sleep. They agreed to take turns, having one guard the other while she was sleeping. Parvati's shift was from 6:30 until 9:00. Then Padma would wake her twin, who would guard her as she slept until 11:30. They both wanted to be awake for the announcements. 

Padma regretted that they hadn't waited for anyone. She had been friends with Lisa Turpin, who had been one of the dead announced at 6:00. She wondered briefly how her friend had died, but then remembered that Dean Thomas had also been mentioned. The two of them had been dating, so Padma figured that however they died, they must have been together. 

Padma wished that she had a boyfriend, even though none of the boys in her class really interested her much. Maybe she was too picky, but she could list at least ten things wrong with every boy in her class. Too short, too stupid, too quiet, too ugly, too much a jerk, and so on. Maybe it was because she of bad experiences. A boy would ask her out, then realize he was talking to the wrong twin. It wasn't Parvati's fault that she was more outgoing, but it still hurt. Padma didn't begrudge her, though. She just became bitter towards boys, and rejected them before they could reject her. 

Well, maybe that wasn't entirely true. She did have a crush on a boy in her class, but would never reveal that bit of information to anyone. Not even her sister. She was afraid that if anyone knew, they would laugh at her. He wasn't particularly handsome, or smart, and wasn't considered one of the 'cool kids'. But he was nice, and could always tell the difference between her and her twin, which was a definite bonus. 

She doubted that they would meet again, though. And if they did, what then? It wasn't as though there were very many places one could go on a date on the island. That, and it would be rather inappropriate to do so even if there were. And it wouldn't be fair for her to go on a date while her sister was left behind. She refused to leave her sister behind for any reason. 

**27 students remaining**


	6. Trusting the Enemy

**Not-So-Obligatory Author Note #2** -- At the bottom of this chapter marks the first ever question and answer session. Yay! I'd also like to thank everyone who's reviewed so far. And I suppose I should add the obligatory "I don't own anything" disclaimer. So I don't own anything, except for a half-eaten box of Pocky, which nobody can have. And if any of you have any more questions, ask away. I might not be able to answer them immediately (if the answer would be a spoiler, for instance), but all will be made clear, even if not in the context of the story itself. So review!   
  
  
**September 2, 1996 -- 6:44 a.m.**   
Gary Montgomery (Program Supervisor) was settling down for breakfast inside of the monitoring room. He was rather surprised to see how many students were already enjoying themselves in the game. Not even six hours had passed and already a fourth of the class had been eliminated. It almost saddened him, though, that he would have to wait another year for the program to be held again. And even then, the school chosen might not be under his jurisdiction. So he wanted to cherish the moment. 

Currently, he was waiting for a representative of the Minister of Magic to arrive. That was for certain one of the most annoying aspects of his job. Very seldomly did they share the same passion toward the program as he did. Just the facts, thank you very much. A boring bunch who wouldn't know a good time if it hit them over the head while screaming in their face. 

With a loud pop, the representative apparated in. Montgomery sighed and turned around, ready to give his preliminary report. He couldn't quite understand why the Minister couldn't simply wait until the end to hear news of how things were going. After all, he might miss something good while reporting. "You're a little bit early." 

Percy Weasley (Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic) nodded as he took out a quill and scroll of parchment. "It's better to be early than late. Do you have your report?" 

Montgomery nodded sadly. "A nice start. Already 13 dead. Four of them since I made the morning announcements, even. But I do have to take responsibility for the first death. One of the students tried to incite a riot, so I had no choice but to make an example out of him. I expect that I'll be reprimanded for that, yes?" 

"That's correct." 

"Of course." Montgomery looked to the monitor that recorded the forbidden zones and the students' positions. Unlike the tracking device that the late Draco Malfoy had possessed, the monitor _did_ list the students' names. "There aren't any living students left in the zones that will become forbidden, which I suppose is a testament to their limited intelligence, but if your brother isn't more careful, he'll end up in one." 

Percy's quill stopped scratching and his face paled. "My... brother?" 

Montgomery turned back around and smiled. "Oh, that's right. I forgot to tell you which school was participating this year. Hogwarts. Didn't they play in the first year of the program? I believe your older brother won that one. What was his name? Carl or something like that?" 

"Charlie," Percy corrected numbly. 

"Ah, that's right. Well, maybe your younger brother will win this one. Although I doubt it. Seemed to have been in a scuffle of some sort in G-9." He smiled cheerfully at Percy. "But one can always hope, right? Oh, don't look so shocked. You know that it's all random, which school gets chosen. If we started exempting people for any reason, there'd be nothing more than chaos, right?" 

"I, uh, I should probably go back and deliver the report now." 

Montgomery nodded sympathetically. "But I haven't finished with my report, yet. Oh well. Losing a loved one is always hard. Why, my own daughter was killed in the first year. But you go on. Deliver your report, grieve, do whatever you must, and I'll see you later this afternoon, eh?" 

Still numb, Percy nodded once, and Disapparated. 

Montgomery chuckled softly and turned back to his breakfast. Maybe giving reports wouldn't be quite so annoying this year. It was always fun to tease the newbies. They were always so young and idealistic. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 6:59 a.m.**   
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) watched on as Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) finished wrapping the wire around a tree trunk. After Blaise had joined up with them, they had gone back into the forest and settled down in a small clearing. Although Harry's pack and its contents were a loss, they had collected the packs of the late Michael Corner and Zacharias Smith before they left the field. Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) was currently napping a few feet away from Harry. Harry himself wasn't quite sure what Blaise was doing, or where he got the wire. 

Blaise must have sensed Harry's confusion, as once he was done, he smiled and said, "Early alarm system. Crude, but it'll get the job done. Anyone approaches, and we'll know beforehand." 

Harry nodded. "Where'd you get the wire?" 

Blaise sat down, then put his hand behind his head with a sheepish expression on his face. "Ah, well, I nicked it from the shop back there. You really should have checked the back room before you settled down. If I was playing you'd be dead." 

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "You were in there?" 

Blaise nodded. "When I heard you approach, I ducked into the back. Followed the two of you when you left. Probably should have said something sooner, but I wasn't sure if you were playing or not. Sorry 'bout that." 

Harry nodded, although he was still rather surprised about the situation. "Why did you follow us?" 

Blaise shrugged. "Not quite sure myself. Whim, I guess." 

There was silence for a while. Harry wasn't quite sure what to think. Abruptly, he looked back up to Blaise. "Hey, um, I can understand why Michael attacked me, but why did Zacharias attack? If you followed us, you must have seen something, right?" 

Blaise nodded somberly. "Fear, most likely. Everyone here's afraid to some degree. Some more than others. I guess when you reached for your knife, that set it off." 

"But I wouldn't have used it!" 

"Maybe not, but he was scared, and I guess he panicked." He sighed and leaned back against the tree he was sitting in front. "In the end, though, he was up for playing the game. Nothing to really understand there." He closed his eyes. "The rules state kill or be killed. You can't really afford to trust anyone under circumstances like that. Doesn't matter how close you are, or how long you've known them. Everyone's in this for themselves. Can't trust anybody." 

"I won't believe that!" Harry stood up. Blaise's eyes opened, and Harry sat back down, looking ashamed. "I mean, if we can't trust anyone, then what's the point? Why bother with any of this?" 

Blaise studied the other boy for a moment, then asked, "Do you trust me?" 

Harry glanced over at him. "What do you mean?" 

"I'm a Slytherin, right? I know what everyone thinks about us. We've got a real bad reputation. And how do you know I'm not just joining with you guys to take advantage of all that safety in numbers crap? I could just be biding my time until we're the only ones left and then shoot you in the back. You can't know that I'm not planning on betraying you." He closed his eyes again. "That's why you can't trust anybody." 

Harry looked down at the ground, not sure on how to respond. What the other boy said made perfect sense. 

"But suspecting each other will get us nowhere!" Hermione said. Apparently she had awakened at some point. "I mean, how do you know that we're not against you? How do I know that Harry's not against me? If we all start suspecting one another, then we'll just end up getting paranoid and lose our minds!" 

Blaise smiled. "Now you're getting the hang of it." He opened his eyes again. "I guess it all comes down to believing in someone. Believing that they'll do the right thing in the end, even if you can't be certain. Once you start suspecting everyone, it'll never end." He smiled. "I always envied how close you guys were. You could say anything to one another. Always able to believe in one another. I guess that's why I trust you guys. You're honest." 

Hermione smiled. 

Harry looked back up, a puzzled expression on his face. "Back at the train station. You told me not to get on the train. You knew what was going to happen, didn't you?" 

Blaise's eyebrows raised in surprise, and he shook his head. "Not for certain. I guess maybe I was just a little paranoid that it might be us..." There was a long pause, then he continued. "I had an older sister. Larissa. She wanted to be a healer when she grew up. Couldn't stand the sight of anyone being hurt. Way back when the program first started, her class was the one chosen. She didn't win." 

Hermione's eyes widened, and her hands flew to her mouth. "That's just so horrible! It isn't fair that they would make you participate, too!" 

Blaise shrugged. "Life isn't fair. If it was we'd all be back at school, eating breakfast in the Great Hall." His stomach growled, and he smiled sheepishly. "Speaking of breakfast, we should probably eat." 

As the three of them ate the bread rolls that they'd been supplied, Harry continued to study the other boy. Even though there were still many things that were a mystery, he was finally beginning to understand where the other boy was coming from. That was when Harry realized that he trusted the other boy, too. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 7:05 a.m.**   
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) was finally ready to admit that he was completely lost. He had no idea how long he had been running since he left the clinic, nor did he have any idea of which zone he might be located in. All he could see around him were trees and more trees. Due to the fact that he hadn't run in a straight line, he was fairly certain that he wouldn't be able to find his way back to the clinic to get his map and pack. As such, he was very, very afraid. If someone found him, he had no way of defending himself. If someone didn't find him, without a map he might end up in a forbidden zone and not know it until it was too late. If he was very lucky, he would starve to death or become dehydrated. 

After he had left the clinic, he heard gunshots coming from that direction a few minutes later. The same gunshots that he had heard twice earlier in the night. So he wanted to get as far away from the clinic as possible before whoever it was left and went searching for their next victim. Along the way, though, he had realized that he had no idea where he was and was about to consult his map when he realized he didn't have it with him. Of all the stupid things he had done in his life, why did he have to leave the damn map behind? 

So he sat down to rest. There wasn't much else he could do. He was hungry, and thirsty, and lost. 

He glanced at his watch. 5 minutes after seven. The fact that he was still alive told him that he wasn't in the first of the forbidden zones, which had became so at 7:00. But for all he knew he could be in the next. To make matters worse, he forgot which zone came next. Not like it would matter without a map, though. 

Even though the likelihood of him being discovered was far greater if he stayed where he was, he was starting not to care anymore. Even if he didn't have a weapon, he was going to die fighting. Not because he ended up in some stupid forbidden zone. He was considering the possibility of just shouting out and summoning whoever wanted to go after him, but wasn't quite sure that he was ready to die, yet. He still wanted to see his friends for one last time, if only to say goodbye. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 7:18 a.m.**   
After the trio had finished eating, things had become quiet once more. None of them could really think of anything to say, so they ended up staring into space. Harry idly wondered if any of his classmates were under attack at the moment, but didn't want to speak up lest he destroy the peaceful mood they had going right now. It might have been an awkward peace, but he would take what he could get. 

"God dammit," Blaise muttered as he took out a pack of cigarettes. Harry and Hermione looked at him as he took one out and lit up. "Hope you don't mind. It's just when I'm stressed out I find smoking helps me relax." 

"Those things will kill you, you know," Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself. Realizing what she just said, she covered her mouth and blushed. 

Blaise chuckled. "Here's hoping, right?" 

Harry tilted his head. "I didn't know you smoked." 

Blaise raised an eyebrow as he blew out some smoke. "Where'd you think I was going at the train station?" 

Harry furrowed his brows in concentration. "At the train station...? Oh, when you stepped out for fresh air?" 

Blaise nodded. "What can I say? I'm a no-good delinquent." He smirked. "Not the only one, though. Never really bothered to count, but there's a bunch of us that hang out at the Grassy Knoll." 

"The Grassy Knoll?" 

"It's what we call the place where us smokers go to smoke. I have no idea how it got the name, because it's neither grassy nor is it a knoll. It's in back of the school, kinda in an alcove of sorts. We're not supposed to smoke inside. Against the school rules or something. But outside the teachers don't really seem to care all that much. Hell, some of them have even tried to bum smokes off us." Blaise smiled. "Not gonna name names, though." 

Hermione frowned. "Who else smokes?" 

"In our class?" Blaise leaned back against his tree, a thoughtful look on his face. "Let's see, I know that Vicky Frobisher does. I've seen a couple of the other girls, too, but not on a regular basis. Wayne Hopkins smokes, and I've seen Malfoy and his goons around occasionally. I think he was just looking to deal, though. I think that's it for our class. It's mainly the older students that smoke." 

"What do you mean, Malfoy was looking to deal?" Harry asked. 

Blaise looked at Harry seriously, then took a puff of his cigarette. "Drugs. Minor stuff, mainly, but even so." 

Hermione blinked. "I didn't know there was a drug problem at Hogwarts." 

Blaise chuckled. "You didn't know there were people who smoked at Hogwarts, either, but who's counting? I don't know if anyone actually uses or not. I wouldn't touch the stuff if you paid me. So I'd have no idea who might be using, or where they go to hang out." 

Things fell silent once again. Harry broke the silence by asking, "Which teachers bum cigarettes off of you?" 

Blaise started laughing. "I told you I wasn't going to name names. Let's just drop it, all right?" 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 7:21 a.m.**   
After having left the clinic, Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) had used the tracker he had found to follow the student that was running away. He had no idea who the student was, but they might be able to help him complete his mission. Well, assuming that they weren't a hostile. If they were hostile, he would deal with them. 

The student had stopped moving about half an hour ago, which made it a lot easier to initiate contact with them. They'd been running around haphazardly before, occasionally coming dangerously close to F-6, the zone where the school was located. It made Neville wonder if they even had a map. Oh, well. If they were friendly, he might give them one of his spares. Aside from the map he had been issued, he had about three others. He didn't need any of them, not with the tracker he now had. It contained a map of the island, with the forbidden zones being marked as they were announced. But it was best that he keep the tracker a secret. Who knows how many people would want to get their hands on it if they knew he had it? 

He wore his robes over his shoulders like a cape, hiding his Ingram from sight. No sense in scaring whoever it was he was following. They might have a gun. Even if he was wearing the bulletproof vest he had been issued as his 'weapon', Neville didn't feel like being shot at anytime soon. And if they were friendly, he didn't want to have to shoot them just because they got scared. 

He was almost there, now. He just had to be quiet so he wouldn't alarm them. He didn't really feel like chasing after them anymore. Not after how far he had come. Stepping past a couple of trees, he could finally see who it was he had been following. 

"Eh? Ron?" Neville walked into the clearing where his dorm mate was resting, and sat down across from the other boy, careful to hide his gun as he sat it on the ground behind him with his robes draped over it. "What are you doing here?" 

Ron looked up to Neville. "Lost." He smiled. "How'd you find me?" 

Neville hesitated for a moment, then held out the tracker. "I found it at the clinic. I put out the fire, too, just in case you're wondering." 

Ron sat up straight, then winced at the pain in his side. "The clinic? You went to the clinic? But that's where the shooter was! Did you see him? Did he hurt you?" 

Neville shook his head. "He must have left before I got there," he lied. "Probably didn't want to stay any longer than he had to. What happened to Goyle and Malfoy?" 

"Uh..." Ron looked down at the ground. "That was my fault. They attacked me, so I defended myself." He quickly looked up, and said quickly, "But I'm not playing! So you don't have to worry. I don't even have a weapon with me. I think I left it in Goyle's skull." Realizing what he just said, his face paled, and he turned to the side and vomited. 

Neville waited patiently for the other boy to continue. He had felt like vomiting too, the first time. But he resisted the urge, reminding himself that it was kill or be killed, and he had a mission to fulfil. 

Ron finally sat back up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Oh, god. I killed him, didn't I?" 

"If you hadn't, he would have killed you, right?" He pointed at Ron's injury. "Looks like he tried to at least. If you were only defending yourself, then you shouldn't feel too bad about it, right?" He decided to test the waters a little bit. "In the end, that's what they do. The Slytherins are bullies, plain and simple. Just because the stakes have been upped, do you think they'll stop? Not a chance. So if we don't stop them, they'll kill us." Pausing to gauge Ron's reaction, he continued. "If we were to die, who would you want to win? I don't know about you, but I could never rest easy if a Slytherin won." Neville had his say. The ball was in Ron's court now. 

Ron looked off into the distance, then slowly nodded. "But even so..." He paused, thinking of what he was going to say. "We can't give up on ourselves like that. I don't think I could ever live with myself if I became a killer. I'd end up losing too much of myself. I don't want to pay that price." 

Neville nodded, then stood up. "You're too soft, Ron." At Ron's surprised face, he grinned. "That's okay, though. It's probably for the best this way." He tossed Malfoy's pack at Ron, who caught it. "Malfoy's supplies. Food, water, map. No weapon, though. Oh, wait!" He sat back down, and opened up his own pack. Finding what he was looking for, he took out the katana that had once belonged to Daphne Greengrass and set it on the ground before Ron. "Not the best weapon in the world, but it's better than nothing, right?" Scooping up his gun and robes, he stood back up, and turned to walk away. 

"Neville, wait!" Ron exclaimed. Neville turned around. "I can't take this. You'll need a weapon, too." 

Neville smiled, and unwrapped his robes to reveal the gun that he had been concealing. Ron's eyes widened as Neville put his robes back on around his shoulders. "I already have one." He waved his hand, and walked off. "Bye!" 

Ron stared in shock after the other boy. If Neville had that gun, that meant... That meant... 

That meant Neville was the shooter. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**Question & Answer Session #1**   
1-_How long is the story? Are you still writing it?_   
24 chapters long, and I finished writing about 1 or 2 weeks before I posted the first chapter, so it's done. Just not all posted. 

2-_Could an Animagus escape the island?_   
I never really thought of that, to be perfectly honest. Although the idea would tie in with a conversation that was held in the rough draft of Chapter 13. Originally, there was mention that a student who had been in one of the previous games had managed to remove their collar. But since I couldn't think of a good reason on how they could do so, I edited the scene out. It wasn't important to the plot anyway, but maybe if I change some things, I can edit the scene back in and explain it better. (I hope that wasn't a spoiler...) 

3-_Does anyone have a flamethrower?_   
I never thought of that... Alas, no. It would have been cool, though. Maybe I should post a list of who was supplied with what weapon to the group, although there are a few spoilers in the mix, so I couldn't post a list quite yet. Not until most of the story was posted. But since I didn't bother to assign weapons to three of the students who die early on (in Chapters 2 & 4), I suppose you can pretend that one of them got a flamethrower, even if it will never come into play. 

4-_Who dies next?_   
I can't say, because that would spoil the fun. 

5-_How do I review?_   
Click the button below that says "submit review". It's just that easy. ;) 


	7. Downward Spiral

**September 2, 1996 -- 7:31 a.m.**   
After he had received the preliminary report from Montgomery, Percy Weasley had Apparated straight into the office of his boss, Cornelius Fudge (Minister of Magic). He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to say, but he wanted answers about why his little brother was being forced to participate in this year's program. He had time to think about it, though, as apparently the Minister wasn't in. 

Percy had run through the hallways of the Ministry, stopping people that he encountered to demand if they knew where the Minister had gone too. None of them knew, though, which did nothing to soothe the panic that Percy was feeling. He occasionally would pop back to the Minister's office to check if he was in yet, but it remained empty. With growing desperation, he ran to one of the lifts, hoping that it would hurry up and get there. After what seemed to take an eternity, it finally arrived, and he got in. 

That was where he was at the moment. Waiting impatiently for the lift to take him to level two. He hadn't spoken to his father in over a year, but with no other course of action he could take, he had no choice but to swallow his pride. He just hoped that they wouldn't start arguing. 

'Come on, you stupid lift,' he thought. 'Hurry up!' He wasn't sure of who was in charge of the enchantments that made the lifts move, but whoever it was should be fired for making them move so slowly. At long last, it finally arrived at its destination, and Percy raced towards his father's office. 

Out of breath, he looked around. The only person who was there was Perkins, who worked with his father in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Percy frowned, and turned to Perkins. "Where's my father?" he asked, trying to catch his breath. 

Perkins turned to him, then shook his head. "He's taken the day off. Wouldn't say why. I thought the two of you weren't speaking?" 

Percy groaned, then Apparated to the Burrow. All of this running around and Apparating was starting to wear him out. He would have preferred to face his parents under better circumstances in a more neutral territory, but there wasn't any time for that now. 

He looked around the living room, not finding anyone around. He could hear soft sobbing coming from the kitchen, however. He followed the sound, and found his parents sitting at the table. His mother was crying, while his father was trying to console her. Percy knocked on the doorframe to get their attention. 

They looked over to them, and an awkward silence settled in. Finally, Arthur broke the silence. "What are you doing here?" 

"I, uh... Listen, I'm sorry about, well, about everything. But I need your help. Ron's class--" 

"We already know," Molly said quietly between sobs. "They informed us yesterday." 

Percy was taken aback. They already knew, and hadn't told him? "Then you know we have to go save him! All we have to do is Apparate there and get their collars off!" 

Arthur shook his head sadly. "If anyone tries to intervene, they'll detonate all of the collars. Besides, they have wards that prevent anyone from Apparating anywhere except the school. And even then, only authorized people are allowed to do so." 

"But there has to be something we can do! What about a port key?" 

"Same problem. They would just detonate the collars before we could find anyone." Arthur sighed. "There's nothing we can do." 

Percy's mind raced, trying to think of something. "Well, maybe if I talked to the Minister, I could get him to call it off." 

Molly laughed bitterly. "You really think he'd listen? Once the program starts, it doesn't get called off for any reason." 

Percy slumped against the wall dejectedly, still trying to come up with another plan. There was another pause. 

"Is he still alive?" Arthur asked quietly. 

Percy nodded. "He was when I went for the preliminary report. That's how I found out that his class was playing." 

"I'm sorry." 

Percy shook his head. "Don't be." His mind finally clicked on something resembling a plan. It was horrible, but if he was able to pull it off, he might be able to save Ron and the rest of his classmates. He looked back to his parents. "I guess this is goodbye then, right? Maybe there's nothing you can do, but there is something I can do." With that, he Disapparated. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 7:36 a.m.**   
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) was still sitting in shock after his encounter with Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor). Ron knew that one of his classmates had been responsible for killing at least three of his classmates, but had never imagined in his wildest dreams that Neville could be the one responsible. He had always been a rather shy and quiet boy. What could possibly have happened to turn someone like that into a killer? And why was it that he himself still lived when others hadn't been so lucky? 

He was still pondering that when he heard rustling in the bushes behind him. Wondering if Neville had come back to finish him off, he picked up the katana that had remained untouched on the ground in front of him, unsheathing it. He then stood up, facing the direction the noise had come from. 

Out from the bushes emerged Pansy Parkinson (Girl 15, Slytherin). When she saw Ron, she froze in her tracks, eyes wide. It had taken her over three hours to make it this far with her injury, and now it appeared as though her luck had run out. 

"Stay where you are!" Ron commanded as he held the katana. Unlike its original owner, Ron had no idea on how to wield it properly. 

Pansy dropped her pack onto the ground, and slumped against a tree. "Before you kill me, just tell me. How many are yours?" 

Ron blinked. "What?" 

Pansy glared up at him. "How many of the deaths announced were your kills? What number will I be?" 

Ron's face softened momentarily, but hardened again as he remembered just who it was he was talking to. "How many of them were yours?" 

Pansy sneered. "The last time I checked, stun guns weren't even lethal. And even if they were, do you really think I could even get close to anyone like this?" She pointed at her injured leg. "So if you're going to kill me, do it now. I can't run very fast, so it's an easy kill." She threw her stun gun onto the ground. "Not even armed now. So come at me. Finish me off." 

Ron lowered the katana. "I'm not going to kill you." 

Pansy scowled at him. "And why the hell not? This is the moment that you've been waiting for, right? I've always been a thorn in your side. So why don't you remove the thorn already? If you don't kill me, someone else will." 

Ron re-sheathed the katana. "One, you're injured. Two, you're a girl. Three," he looked at her, "I'm not playing." 

Pansy sighed. "Fine. If you're not going to kill me, then I'll be on my way, then." She bent down to pick up her discarded stun gun, wincing as pain shot up her leg. 

"Hey, wait." He knew he was going to regret this, but he wouldn't feel right with himself if he didn't at least offer to help. "If you're injured, you shouldn't be moving around at all. Where is it that's so important that you have to go to?" 

Pansy stood up and glared at him. "If you must know, I'm going to the clinic. I don't know about you, but I wasn't granted with any first aid supplies, so I'm going to treat my wound properly there." 

Ron's eyes widened. "You can't! Neville might still be lurking around! He'd kill you!" 

The girl looked at him skeptically. "Neville? As in Neville Longbottom? The clumsy little crybaby? What does he have to do with anything?" she shook her head, and painfully limped past Ron. 

"He's the one who's been shooting people!" Ron exclaimed. Pansy froze in her tracks, then turned back around to face him. "He's the one who has that gun! I'm sure you must have heard it, too! If you go out there, he might come back and kill you!" 

"How do you know?" 

"Because I saw him earlier. He's the one who gave me this." Ron gestured to the katana. "He must have taken it off of one of the people he'd killed. And when he turned to leave, I saw his gun. I don't know why he didn't kill me. Maybe he didn't think I was a threat, but--" He stopped, recalling part of his earlier conversation with Neville. "It's because I'm not a Slytherin," he muttered to himself. He looked back to Pansy. "But he wouldn't have any such reservations with you." 

She sighed. "So what am I supposed to do, huh? Just wait here and go untreated? I'd really like to get to the clinic sometime today and get my leg taken care of. And how can you be certain he won't come back here, huh? He might change his mind about killing you. What then? I think I'll take my chances out there." 

"At least let me go with you. If all you have is a stun gun, it won't do much to help you. I can help protect you." He pointed to the injury on his side. "And I probably should get this taken care of." 

Pansy's brows furrowed. "How'd you get that injury?" 

"I, uh, I was attacked. Got away, though." Ron felt like smacking himself as he realized that if they went to the clinic, Pansy was likely to find the corpses of Goyle and Malfoy. Of course, if he acted surprised, she might never have to know that Ron had ever been at the clinic. 

Pansy looked at him skeptically, as though she was going to say something else, but then thought better of it. She slowly nodded, and said, "Let's go, then." 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 7:48 a.m.**   
Hannah Abbott (Girl 1, Hufflepuff) had hoped that by the time she reached the clinic, the shooter would still be lurking about. After hearing the pleasant sound of guns firing all through the night and morning, she decided that she needed to get a gun for herself. And what better gun than one capable of rapid firing? She wasn't stupid, though. She knew in a fair fight, she wouldn't win. But she didn't fight fair. Everybody believed her to be sweet and innocent. A fact that she could use to her advantage. She already had, last night. 

A waste of time and energy, really. What kind of weapon was a fork? It was even worse than the sickle she had. Alas, when she arrived at the clinic, the shooter was long gone. She was able to find a flare gun, though, which was definitely a step up. She also found the corpses of Gregory Goyle and Draco Malfoy. They both looked like they died horribly. She was envious that it hadn't been her that killed them. But, it _was_ two less classmates that she had to deal with. 

She had contemplated taking the flail lodged in Goyle's skull, but after pulling on it for a minute or so, decided not to take it. Not only wouldn't it dislodge, but it also looked rather heavy. And she could make do with the flare gun and sickle for now, anyway. No sense in slowing herself down with a useless weapon like that. 

She hoped the shooter would hurry up and kill someone else soon. It was downright difficult to track them down when she didn't know where they were. Maybe if she got lucky, though, she could find someone else in possession of a gun. Even though she had no doubt that she could win without one, she still wanted to harness the power of a firearm. Inspire fear within her classmates moments before they died. Let everybody else out there who was still alive know that another one of their own had just perished. 

She wondered where her lackeys were. Even though she didn't really care for either of them, if either of them had been granted a gun, she might have been able to take it from them. But it was too late for such thoughts now. 

She consulted the 'I will kill' list she had written back in the classroom, and crossed off the names of Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle. She was sure they wouldn't mind. She wanted to know exactly who she might be up against, so she crossed names off as she came across their bodies, or when they were announced. She had come across the body of Daphne Greengrass when she had gone off in search of the shooter with the wonderful gun. Alas, Daphne's weapon and the contents of her pack were already gone by the time Hannah got there. If the shooter wasn't careful, she might consider him to be a worthy opponent. 

Taking one last look around the clinic, she decided that it was finally time to move on. There wasn't anything left of any interest. After careful deliberation, she finally decided to head north along the coastline. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 8:02 a.m.**   
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) was getting worried. Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) was shaking like a leaf. He had noticed her shaking earlier in the morning, but figured it was due more to her being scared, or cold, or both. But it was starting to warm up, and she was safe for the time being. Maybe he was just being an insensitive dunce, but he couldn't figure out what was wrong. 

Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) rubbed out the butt of the cigarette he had been smoking, then went over to Hermione and felt her forehead. "Bloody hell," he muttered. He turned to Harry. "Check the map. There's a clinic somewhere on the island. It should be listed on it somewhere." 

Harry nodded, as he rummaged one-handed through the pack for the map. His left hand was still bleeding from being cut with Zacharias' hatchet earlier. "Why am I looking for the clinic?" 

"She's burning up. Might have a fever. Well, more like she does have a fever. You find it yet?" 

Hermione shook her head. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." 

Harry glanced up at her, then looked back down to the map. "G-9. Southeast from here." 

Blaise nodded, and got up. "I'll start deconstructing the alarm system. No sense in letting good wire go to waste." 

Hermione tried to stand up, but when a sudden feeling of light-headedness overtook her, she sat back down. "I'm telling you guys, I'm fine!" 

Blaise looked at her seriously. "You're not fine. You're burning up. If we don't get you treated up soon, you'll be feeling a lot worse later." His face softened. "Besides, we might run into your friend along the way, and you won't have to worry so much." 

Hermione looked as though she was going to argue some more, but then sighed and relented. "How long do you think it will take for us to get there?" 

Blaise looked at his watch. "Not quite sure. Depends on how often we'll have to stop to rest, and whether we want to go the short way in the open or the long way in the forest. I strongly recommend the long way." 

Harry looked up in alarm. "But if she's sick, shouldn't we try to get to the clinic as soon as possible? I mean, you've got that shotgun, and I have Michael's gun, so we should be fine, right?" 

Blaise shook his head. "It's better to stick to some semblance of cover. If we go out in the open, we'll become nothing more than moving targets. There's at least one other person out there with a gun. Probably more." 

Harry slowly nodded. "At least two, that I know of. The rapid shooter and Crabbe." 

"When did you see Crabbe?" Hermione asked. 

"Last night. Before I went to the store. He came across me as I was hiding out in the forest, but backed off and ran away. I don't think he's playing." 

Blaise shrugged. "In any case, we should get moving. I'd like to get there by noon, just in case it becomes forbidden at one." 

After he had deconstructed their alarm system and put the wire back into his pack, the trio gathered their things and began their trek. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 8:11 a.m.**   
He had absolutely no idea how he was going to pull this off, but was going to try anyway. The program had to be stopped, and if no one else was going to do anything about it, then all hope rested upon him. 

After leaving the Burrow, Percy Weasley had Apparated straight to his flat in London. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, but anything that might help him on his crusade would do. The best he could find, though, were some books on advanced charms. He had skimmed through them, hoping to find something useful, but to no avail. He let out a cry of frustration, then grabbed his money and Apparated to Knockturn Alley. 

He had never been there before, and wasn't quite sure of where exactly the nearest bookstore was, but was sure he'd be able to find one soon enough. As he walked down the alley, he got a few stares from people that might have believed him to be out of place. At that point of time, though, he was well beyond caring what anyone else thought of him. 

Finally finding a bookstore, he walked in. There were a couple of other customers in the store, but after briefly looking at him, they just as quickly turned away. He ignored them, and headed towards the shopkeeper, who was watching him amusedly. 

"I'm looking for a book where I can learn a few good spells quickly," Percy told the merchant, keeping his voice low. "Time is of the utmost importance." 

The shopkeeper smirked. "Is that right? I suppose you're rather new at this, so I have just the book." He walked around the counter, heading towards the bookshelves. "Ah, yes. A wonderful encyclopedia, written by one Malachai Ambrose. Rather graphic pictures, but what better way to learn something in a hurry, yes?" He grabbed the thick book and went back to the counter, setting it down in front of Percy. "Will this do?" 

Percy opened the book, leafing through it. It was perfect. He nodded, and put his money down on the counter. "Will this be enough?" 

The shopkeeper quickly counted, then nodded. "Yes, this should cover it. Do you need a bag?" 

"I should be fine. Good day to you, then." The transaction complete, he walked out of the bookshop and Apparated back to his flat. 

Shoving things off the kitchen table, he grabbed a chair and placed the heavy book onto the table. Hoping he would find something useful, he started skimming through _The Encyclopedia of Dark Magic_. 

**27 students remaining**


	8. Family

**September 2, 1996 -- 8:21 a.m.**   
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) was finding it increasingly harder to hide his injury as the trio moved on north through the forest of E-4. He was hiding his hand within his robes, checking every few minutes to see if the bleeding had stopped, but so far no luck. He was starting to get dizzy from the blood loss. 

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "Hey, Blaise? Do you think that maybe we could take the shorter route after all? I'm not sure how much longer I can go on like this." He held up his hand. 

Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) turned around. "Hmm?" He swore when he saw Harry's hand. He went over to check the severity of the wound. "Dammit, you should have said something earlier." He dropped Harry's hand. "Change of plans. We go back to the store and get you stitched up. I saw some stuff that'll help, but don't have it with me." He took off his robes and tore off a strip of fabric. "Wrap this around in the meantime. It won't stop the bleeding, but it'll help. You really should have said something sooner." 

Harry looked to the ground. "I just thought it wasn't that important." 

Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) looked exasperated. "Really, Harry. If you were hurt all this time, you should have said something. Huh?" Blaise had put his hand on her shoulder, shaking his head. Hermione's features softened, and she turned back to Harry. "Next time, speak up. We're all in this together, right?" 

Harry nodded, then looked back up to Blaise. "Wait, stitches?" 

Blaise nodded as he led them south. "You'll need them to stop the bleeding. I don't think I'll find any anesthetic, so you'll just have to buckle up and take it like a man. I saw some sewing supplies at the store, along with some whiskey that we can use to disinfect. I'll just say now that it'll probably hurt like hell. Drink some of the whiskey if it makes you feel better, but don't get drunk on us. I don't have anything to sober someone up." 

Harry shook his head. "That's not it. I'm just surprised you know so much about Muggle medicine." 

Blaise's features tightened. "My uncle's a doctor. Has his own small practice. I've been helping him out since..." He paused, then continued. "Despite what everyone thinks, not all of us Slytherins are purebloods. I'm only half. Dad's a wizard, and my mother was a Muggle." For a moment, Harry thought Blaise was going to continue, but he just left it at that. 

Hermione, though, wasn't quite satisfied. "_Was_ a Muggle? Don't you mean is?" 

Blaise stiffened. He looked at them and sighed. "After Larissa's class was chosen to play, she took it pretty hard. I was barely five at the time, so I didn't really understand what was going on. I just knew that she was really sad about something. One day my uncle came over to visit. He was playing a game with Cynthia. She's my little sister. I forget what game they were playing, but Mama went upstairs for something. I was getting bored just watching them play, so I followed her..." 

Harry's eyes widened as he remembered something. Last year in Care of Magical Creatures, when Hagrid had shown the thestrals to the class, Blaise had been able to see them. And if thestrals could only be seen by someone who had witnessed someone die... 

Blaise continued. "I'm not even sure if she knew I was there. Her back was turned to me when she jumped off the chair that she was standing on. All I could do was stare in shock as she dangled there. I'm not sure how long I just stood there before I started screaming." A tear rolled down his cheek. If he noticed, he didn't bother to wipe it away. 

They walked on in silence. After a while, Hermione said softly, "How can the Ministry be so cold? How can they just destroy so many lives like this? They're just as bad as Voldemort." 

Harry looked to Blaise, who remained silent. Turning back to Hermione, he answered, "They're even worse, because nobody's fighting to stop them." 

"You're wrong," Blaise said, not bothering to look at them. "There are people fighting, but they all end up getting labeled terrorists or whatever. They get sent to prison, sometimes killed if they make too big a stink. If people even know about the fighting at all, it's all through the Ministry's filter. Wouldn't surprise me if a number of Death Eaters joined up just to tear the system down. It's about the only organized fighting movement there is, even if that's not their main goal." 

Hermione looked down. "It's still just so horrible. Hey, um, back in the classroom, Mr. Montgomery said that one school was chosen from all over the world, right? So it's not just the Ministry, is it?" 

There was a pause, then Blaise finally answered. "Every part of the world that has any real magical community has a Ministry of Magic. The name might be different depending on where you go, but the end result was that all the leaders got together and came up with this. I'm not sure how they choose which school gets it. Maybe they draw straws or something." 

The three of them walked on, each of them lost in his or her thoughts. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 8:43 a.m.**   
Percy Weasley believed that he now knew enough to carry out his plan. He slammed the cover of the book shut, and readied himself for departure. He wasn't sure if his mission would be a success or not, but there was only one way to find out. Holding his wand out, he Apparated back to the school on the island the program was being held. 

Gary Montgomery didn't seem the least bit surprised to see Percy return. But before Montgomery could move, Percy hit him with a _Petrificus Totalus_. A simple spell that a first year could do, but sufficient for what was to come. 

Percy's eyes narrowed dangerously, fire burning behind them. "Before I release you, I want you to understand that if you do not do exactly as I say, I am going to kill you in the most horrific fashion I can think of. Listen closely. You are going to deactivate the collars, and make an announcement over the island as such. Then you will help me collect the remaining students, and we will take them back to Hogwarts. And if you try anything stupid, like calling for backup or attempting to detonate the collars, I will turn you inside out and feed your entrails to a pack of hungry dogs. Are we clear?" He partially released the spell, allowing Montgomery the opportunity to speak. 

The supervisor's eyes twinkled with amusement. "You really think I care what you do to me? Say that you kill me. You think they'll cancel this on account of that? I'm expendable, just like you. Tsk, tsk. Threats will get you nowhere." 

Percy growled at him, then turned to what appeared to be a control panel of sorts. "Fine. Tell me how to deactivate the collars, then." 

Montgomery chuckled. "And you would trust me not to lie? You really are naïve, aren't you?" 

Sparks flew from Percy's eyes as he wheeled around to face Montgomery. "_Crucio_!" 

Montgomery writhed for a bit, then smiled. "Thank you, sir. May I have another?" 

Percy took a step back. Was this guy for real? "Sick bastard," he said as he looked back to the controls. He cursed the fact that the buttons weren't clearly labeled. He didn't want to randomly press buttons and end up detonating a collar. Or even worse, detonate all of the collars. "Son of a bitch!" He pounded a fist against the wall next to the monitor. Montgomery started laughing like a madman. "Shut up," Percy whispered, clenching his fist enough to draw blood. "Just shut up!" he screamed, spinning around to face Montgomery. 

"_Petrificus totalus_!" 

Percy's eyes widened as his body went rigid. '_I'm sorry, Ron. I failed my mission_,' he thought as he hit the ground. 

From the doorway, one of Montgomery's three assistants stood, holding his wand. He muttered an incantation and released his boss from the curse. 

Montgomery stretched his limbs. "What took you so long, Sanchez? He might have killed me. Oh, well." He bent over Percy and grinned. "I know you can hear me. I'm sure the aurors are on their way now to arrest you." He pointed to a video camera in one of the corners of the room. "Muggles have such amazing toys, don't they? Did you really think you were the first person to try something like this? This room is constantly monitored and I'm sure there's more than enough evidence to put you away for a very long time." 

If it was at all possible, Montgomery's grin grew wider, and a sadistic gleam formed in his eyes. "I could just detonate your brother's collar now. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? No?" He kicked Percy hard in the stomach and his eyes grew cold. "You need to learn some respect for your betters, boy. Maybe you'll finally learn after a nice long stay at Azkaban." 

Sanchez moved aside as a group of four aurors came into the room, and dragged Percy up off the ground. 

Montgomery smiled. "It's a good thing I'm such a nice guy. I won't detonate his collar. Happy now?" 

He waved as the aurors dragged the once-proud Percy Weasley away. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 8:56 a.m.**   
Harry had his eyes closed as tightly as possible. The trio had made it back to the store, and Blaise was gathering the items he would need to stitch up Harry's hand. Hermione was looking on, eyes wide. 

Blaise returned, sitting next to Harry's left side. "Alright. Needle, thread, whiskey, and some bandages I found in a first aid kit. Should be all set. Hold out your hand." 

Harry shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no! Don't want to!" 

Blaise sighed and grabbed Harry's hand. "Don't be such a baby." He poured some of the whiskey onto Harry's wound in order to disinfect it. 

Harry reflexively tried to pull back his hand, but Blaise's grip prevented him from moving it. "Ow! Stings! I don't want to do this!" 

Blaise ignored him. "If it's any consolation, women go through a lot more pain when they give birth. I've seen it in my uncle's practice." 

Harry continued to shake his head while trying to pull back his hand. "Don't care! Not a woman!" 

Blaise sighed and turned to Hermione. "Little help here?" 

She tentatively walked over, eyes still wide. "I'm not sure how much help I can be. I don't have any training or anything." 

Blaise nodded. "Just hold his hand steady for me and hand me stuff as I ask for it." He put the bottle of whiskey back onto the ground as Hermione crawled over next to him. He began threading the needle as she grabbed Harry's hand. 

Harry's opened his eyes momentarily, but as he saw Blaise coming closer with the needle, he fainted. 

"Oh, for God's sake," Blaise sighed. "At least this will make it a little bit easier." Carefully he began to sew up Harry's wound. 

During the brief 'surgery' Harry would wake up a few times, then promptly pass out again once he noticed that it was still underway. Occasionally Hermione would pass the whiskey back to Blaise so he could disinfect the wound. 

Ten minutes later, Blaise was done stitching Harry's hand. As if sensing that it was over, Harry woke up. 

"Just need to disinfect one last time, then wrap it up. You can take a swig of whiskey if you want, but not too much or you'll get drunk." Blaise soaked Harry's hand one last time, then wrapped the bandages around Harry's hand. 

Harry nodded, and reached out for the whiskey. It did help dull the pain some, but not completely. "How come I couldn't have this before?" 

"Backwash. It's really difficult to drink out of a bottle without some saliva going into it as you put it back down. It'd become useless as a disinfectant." Blaise stood up. "Shall we go, then?" 

Hermione stood up, trembling. She didn't think she'd be able to stitch someone up like that, even though she might have the technical knowledge. 

Harry slowly got up as well, almost falling back down due to dizziness. "Sorry I acted like such a baby." 

Blaise smiled. "I've seen worse. If it were me, I doubt anyone would be able to get anywhere near me." He walked down the aisles of the store and grabbed another bottle of whiskey. "In case we need more disinfectant," he said at the others' questioning looks as he put the bottle into his pack. 

After checking to make sure they didn't leave anything behind, the three of them left once again for the clinic. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 9:15 a.m.**   
Padma Patil (Girl 16, Ravenclaw) gently shook her sister to rouse her from sleep. Although she was supposed to wake Parvati Patil (Girl 17, Gryffindor) at 9:00 a.m., she had allowed her sister to sleep in for fifteen minutes. "Hey. Wake up," she whispered. 

Parvati stirred. "Is it time to get up already?" she asked sleepily, stifling a yawn. 

Padma nodded. "Uh huh. My turn." 

Parvati sighed and sat up. "Have you thought it over any? What we talked about, I mean? About calling out to someone?" 

The Ravenclaw turned away, looking into the distance. "I still don't think it's a very good idea. We have absolutely no idea who out there is killing people." The very thought made her nauseous. "And it's quite possible that there might not be anyone we'd want to find us left. However." She looked at her sister, a serious expression on her face. "However. After they make the noon announcement, if there's anyone left we'd want to join with, we'll call out to them." 

Parvati's face lit up, and she hugged her twin. "Oh, thank you! Shall I make a list of people?" 

Padma shrugged. "Go for it. My turn to sleep now." She smiled. "Just let me see it when you're done, okay?" 

Parvati nodded as her sister laid down to sleep. Taking out the paper and pencil she had been given in class to make her 'kill list', she started writing down the names of those she thought were good people to call out to. She glanced at her sleeping sister and smiled as she wrote down a name. Padma didn't think she knew, but Parvati could tell that there was a boy she had a crush on. The way that Padma looked at him sometimes, the subtle differences in behavior, Parvati had noticed them all. It bothered her a little that Padma felt that she had to keep her crush a secret, but she could understand why, a little. 

After she was finished making the list, Parvati sat back and smiled. Things were going to turn out all right after all. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 9:27 a.m.**   
Wayne Hopkins (Boy 10, Hufflepuff) sighed as he leaned back against the tree, taking out a menthol cigarette. Nobody understood him. He had waited outside the school for someone, but when Megan Jones (Girl 10, Hufflepuff) had come out, she noticed him and started making derogatory remarks towards him. She was just jealous, though, that he looked better in a dress than she did. Not wanting to listen to her closed-mindedness, he had raised a perfectly manicured hand in her direction and walked away. 

He had searched most of the night for his crush, but to no avail. According to the morning announcement, the other boy was still alive, but that was three and a half hours ago. So much could happen in such a short time. Why, Wayne had heard gunshots earlier in the morning. He wasn't worried, though. Other people might view his crush as being fragile and weak, but Wayne could sense a hidden power sleeping deep within. If only the other boy wasn't straight... 

He had asked him last year. Just went right up and asked him if he stood a chance. When Wayne wanted to, he could be rather up front. He knew who he was, and to hell with everyone else. Alas, the other boy, after initially looking rather weirded out, told Wayne that he was only interested in girls, so no, he didn't stand a chance. A pity, but then, there was always hope that he was just deep in denial. 

Wayne glanced down at his gun. A Derringer .22 with only one bullet. Tragic, really. He had never fired a gun before, so wasn't certain that he could aim one properly, and he'd only get one shot at it, so he would have to make it count. 

Wayne brought the cigarette under his nose, wanting to savor its pleasant aroma before he lit it. Few people took the time to savor much of anything anymore. Maybe he was just old-fashioned in that way. He made it a point to never be too busy to enjoy life. 

He smiled and let his thoughts wander away. 'Ne. Ville. Dear. Are you enjoying yourself as much as I am?' 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 9:36 a.m.**   
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) and Pansy Parkinson (Girl 15, Slytherin) walked side by side in silence. Due to their injuries, they hadn't made much progress in the two hours time they had traveled together. That, and the occasional argument they had. Neither of them trusted the other to walk behind them, so they walked next to one another, keeping a healthy distance between them. 

Ron was getting frustrated and checked his map while watching Pansy out of the corner of his eye. She had stopped when he did, watching him warily. Ron knew for a fact that it hadn't taken him this long to run away from the clinic, and he had been weaving randomly around. He blamed Pansy for slowing them down. He glared up at her, and she scowled at him. 

"If you've got a problem, just say so," she sneered as she started walking backwards, not taking her eyes off him. 

Ron shook his head and put away the map. "No problem. It's just that we should have been at the clinic ages ago. You're just too slow." 

Pansy's face twisted in anger. "Well, excuse me for being injured! You didn't have to come along, you know! I never asked you to." 

Ron shrugged, and caught up to her. "Yeah, but I wouldn't feel right, just leaving someone who was injured to fend for themselves like that." 

"Then quit your bitching!" she screeched, throwing her hands in the air. 

Ron muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "you're the one being a bitch," but Pansy left it alone, seething inside. 

"So where are we?" she asked after a few minutes had passed and they both had the opportunity to calm down. 

"Southeast edge of F-8. See? The trees are starting to grow thinner, and then the clinic will be just up ahead. See?" He pointed up ahead. The clinic was coming into view. "Not far now." 

Pansy studied him carefully as they approached. There was something nagging at her. "Why did Neville give you a weapon? What happened to the one you had been issued?" 

Ron's face paled ever so slightly. "I, uh, lost it when I was attacked." 

"Where were you attacked?" 

Ron's ears reddened. He was never a very good liar, and he knew it. "Does it matter? Oh, hey! We made it!" Sure enough, they had reached the doors of the clinic. Before he could enter it for a second time, Pansy blocked his way. He took a step back defensively. 

Her eyes were narrowed with suspicion. "Answer me this, then. Why didn't you want us to come here? And if you were so opposed, why insist on coming with me? Why all the secrets? Hmm?" She looked through the glass door, then turned back to Ron. "There's something in here you don't want me to see, isn't there?" 

Ron took a few steps back, ready to run away if he had to. "Well, you see. I _was_ attacked. It was in self-defense, so you can't really blame me for what happened. I mean, if Goyle wasn't such a lousy shot, I'd be dead now." He pointed to the injury at his side. 

"Oh, God!" Pansy said as she backed against the door. "You killed him?!" 

"It's not like that! He tried to kill me!" 

Unable to back up any more, Pansy opened the doors to the clinic and ran inside. 

"No! Wait!" Ron ran after her, nearly colliding with the door as it was closing. He could hear Pansy scream as he stumbled into the waiting room. He froze where he was as she re-emerged, holding her stun gun. Ron took a step forward, hands held out. "I--" 

"Stay away from me!" Pansy screamed. "Just stay away from me!" 

"Please, just let me explain!" Ron took another step forward, and Pansy lashed out with the stun gun, missing him by inches. 

"Move!" she shouted as she lashed out again. He was blocking the pathway out. 

"I just--" 

Pansy charged him, stunning him with the stun gun. Ron fell to the floor, and Pansy rushed past him to the exit, tears in her eyes. 

**27 students remaining**   
  
  
**Question & Answer Session #2**   
1-_Did you write a story similar to this called 'Harry Potter and the Killing Game'?_   
No. *Does quick search* I think that the story you're talking about is by The 18th Angel (User ID #6213), and has been retitled 'Harry Potter and the Island of Death' (Story ID #1707039). Apparently, it wasn't the author who had removed it but rather FanFiction.Net took it down for some reason. Or at least that's the reason they gave in their author notes. I shall read it once I get this uploaded. 

2-_Where can I get 'Battle Royale'?_   
It all depends on where you're from and which version you mean. The novel, the manga, or the movie? I'm not 100% certain about any country other than America (where I live). But if you are an American, the novel and manga should be easy to find. There are lots of online stores that carry those. And stores that carry books/manga should have them as well. The movie's harder to find. It hasn't been released in America for some reason. But you probably could find a copy of it on Ebay. Beware, though. There are a lot of bootlegs floating around there. 

3-_Why did you make Neville the shooter?_   
Because I already had a general idea of how the story would end. And if I say anything more it would be a massive spoiler. 

4-_When is the next death?_   
Chapter 9, which is up next. 

5-_When's the next chapter going to be posted?_   
Chapters are usually posted every other day, unless I get lazy. 

6-_What other stories are you working on?_   
Three that will probably never be finished, and one that I'm trying to finish before I finish posting this story. The one I'm trying to finish is a romance. Alas, I'm truly bad at writing romance, and I have a horrible case of writer's block at the moment. 

And I believe that's it for now. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, and thanks in advance to everyone who hasn't yet but will. And ask more questions, or say things I can turn into questions. I like the Q & A sessions. :) 


	9. Vendetta

**September 2, 1996 -- 10:02 a.m.**   
Pansy Parkinson (Girl 15, Slytherin) had been determined to get as far away from Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) as possible, and so had run as fast as she could away from the clinic. He had _killed_ Gregory Goyle and Draco Malfoy. She had been traveling with a killer. 

But now she was deeply regretting leaving the clinic. She had just used up the last of her water, and her leg was hurting more than ever. She had made it this far on pure adrenaline alone, but now it had worn off and she could barely move at all due to the pain. 

Up ahead, she could see a small house in the clearing of the forest she was in. Next to it, she could see a small well. She smiled, trying to ignore her throbbing wound. She was extremely thirsty. She just hoped that the well wasn't dry. 

After forcing herself forward, she finally reached the well and peered down. She could see her reflection in the water down below. Smiling with relief, she grabbed the rope dangling from the pulley above the well. She pulled with all of her might, raising the heavy bucket from down below. She didn't care if the water was dirty or not, she needed it now. 

Finally, the bucket came level with the edge of the well. With one last pull, she sat it on the edge, nearly laughing with relief. 

Before she could bring the bucket to her lips, though, she felt something tugging around her neck. 'How annoying,' she thought as she tried to pull it loose. Her annoyance turned to fear as she realized that she couldn't breathe, and that whatever was pulling on her was starting to hurt. Abandoning the bucket, she grabbed her stun gun and set it off behind her. 

Theodore Nott (Boy 14, Slytherin) abandoned his garrote, jumping back just in time to avoid being stunned. In one graceful arch, he grabbed his machete as Pansy spun around to face her assailant. Before she had time to react, he swung at her, creating a rather nasty gash diagonally across her face. 

Pansy dropped her weapon and brought her hands to her face. Nott used that opportunity to scoop her up and throw her into the well. For her credit, she was still able to scream rather loudly in her condition as she splashed around. 

Nott looked down at her, eyes cold. He bent down and picked up the fallen stun gun, regarding it as he held it in his hand. "Such a useless weapon," he said. Still, he put it into his pocket. It might come in useful later. 

Satisfied that the girl would die down there in the well, he walked away, grabbing his pack from the doorway of the house he had been resting in. 

**26 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 10:18 a.m.**   
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) took another swig of whiskey as the trio continued on their way to the clinic. His hand was starting to hurt again. 

Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) looked over at him, concern in her eyes. "Are you sure you should be drinking any more of that? You just had some ten minutes ago. If you're not careful, you'll end up getting drunk." 

Harry shrugged and took another swig. "Hand hurts." 

Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) walked over to Harry and took the bottle from him. "Whether it hurts or not, she's right. If you get drunk, we've got nothing to sober you up." He took a step back as Harry reached for the bottle. "Besides, even if you don't get drunk, you'll have to go to the bathroom a lot. And with only one hand, I don't think it'd be very easy. And I am certainly not going to help you with that. Maybe Hermione will." 

Hermione turned scarlet. "I most certainly will not!" 

Harry pouted at the loss of his painkiller, but said nothing. 

After a brief pause, Hermione spoke up. "Um, is there any bathroom nearby? I kinda have to go." 

Blaise stopped and consulted his map. "Nearest one's at the school, but I don't think you want to go there. There's also a small house or a church, but it'd take at least half an hour before we got to either of those. And that's only if we ran the whole way there." 

Hermione frowned. "I'm not sure I can wait that long." 

Blaise shrugged, putting the map away. "Well, we're in a forest, so go behind some bushes or something. We'll turn away. Harry, give her your gun." 

Harry looked up. "Huh?" he said eloquently. 

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Your gun. Just in case she has to protect herself. Besides, I don't think you'd be able to handle one very easily without popping stitches." 

"Oh. Uh, right." Harry stopped and dug through his pack. He found the gun and handed it to Hermione, who took it and disappeared behind some trees and shrubs. 

There was a pause, and then Harry turned to Blaise. "Where do you think Ron went to?" 

Blaise shrugged as he took out a cigarette. "Could be anywhere, really. If he's smart, he'll be avoiding open space. So it's likely he took refuge in either the forest or some building. For all I know, he could be at the clinic waiting for you guys." He lit the cigarette. 

Harry sighed. "I hope he's all right." 

Blaise looked at the other boy from the corner of his eye as he exhaled smoke. "So what do you plan on doing if you find him?" 

Harry shrugged. "Escape, I guess. There has to be a way. I mean, the winner gets off this island somehow. All we have to do is find out how, and then use that to escape." 

Blaise shrugged. "And how would you escape? You heard what Montgomery said about what would happen if any of us tried. They can probably detect us with these." He pointed at his collar. "How else would they know who was dead or not? Probably have some way of tracking our movements. The second we went out of bounds, boom. No more us." 

Harry nodded. "Maybe we could lure him out of the school somehow. Take him hostage or something. Force him to help us get out of here." 

A doubtful expression grew on Blaise's face. "There's so many holes with that plan, I don't even know where to begin." 

Harry frowned. "What's wrong with it?" 

Blaise took a drag of his cigarette. "For starters, how would you lure him out?" 

"Uh, maybe we could... Um... Hmm... We could shout insults about his mother. That might work, right?" 

Blaise sighed and shook his head. "One, that would alert other people to your position. Two, that wouldn't lure him out. If he felt annoyed enough, I'm sure they have a special command that can detonate anyone's collar, anytime they want. Besides, that's incredibly juvenile and immature." 

Harry shrugged again, and Hermione returned. 

"So what are we talking about?" she asked as she joined up with the others. 

"Escape and why it's highly unlikely, and why Montgomery is such a bastard," Blaise deadpanned. 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, then turned to Harry, who was chuckling. 

"You guys are weird..." she said they continued on. 

**26 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 10:31 a.m.**   
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) groaned as he got up. Although he had regained consciousness long ago, he had felt the floor was nice and soft, so stayed where he was to rest and think about nothing in particular. That, and when he had attempted to get up before, his side hurt. It still did, but it was just better that he get a move on soon. Besides, while he was back at the clinic and not in danger of being killed any time soon, he might as well tend to his injury. 

Going back into the hallway that led to the doctor offices, he tried not to look at the bodies of Goyle and Malfoy. He did, however, allow himself a glance to the supply closet where the fire had been. Sure enough, Neville had put out the fire just as he said. Ron was perplexed as to why he would have done so, but shrugged it off and searched down the hall. 

He really wished that Hermione was with him now. He hadn't the faintest idea of how Muggle medicine worked, but was sure that she would know. After all, she was like a walking encyclopedia. She would know how to treat him properly. 

He found some bandages in one of the rooms, and went to a restroom with a mirror he had passed. Leaving the door open to let some light in, he took off his robes and shirt, looking at his wound in the mirror. He winced as he saw what it looked like for the first time. His skin was blackened and burnt, and there was blood all around his wound. It wasn't bleeding at the moment, but it was still rather grotesque. 

He turned the tap of the sink, hoping that water would come rushing out, but there wasn't even a drop. Ron cursed under his breath, then left the room, leaving his belongings behind. It sickened him to do so, but he would have to search through Goyle's pack for some water. 

Carefully stepping over Malfoy's bullet riddled corpse, he knelt down by Goyle, trying to suppress the urge to vomit once again. Careful not to look at the dead boy, he searched through the pack, finally finding some water. Grabbing the bottle, he went back, stopping in one of the doctor offices for some cotton to wipe his wound with. 

Back inside the bathroom, he tried to turn the lights on, but no power came. He shrugged and went back to the mirror, pouring some water on a ball of cotton. 

After about fifteen minutes, he was done with cleaning his wound. It didn't look nearly as bad as it had when he initially looked at it. Sure, it still looked bad, but nothing that wouldn't heal in time. He wrapped the bandages around himself, then put his shirt back on. He left his robes where they were. They were rather bloodstained, and there was a big hole in the side, so there would be no point in taking them with him. 

For a brief moment, he contemplated taking the flail, but opted not to. He didn't think he'd be able to suppress the urge to vomit if he tried to take it. So he checked his map before he left the clinic, then headed south along the shoreline. 

**26 student remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 10:57 a.m.**   
Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) sat in his tree, watching over the forest down below. It had been rather difficult to climb up there with his gun and pack, but he had managed, and now he had a rather good view. As a bonus, he was hidden from view by the leaves. Someone would have to be standing directly under him and have the foresight to look up to notice him. And by that time, he would already know they were there. 

He looked at his tracker again. There was a smattering of dots in the forest. Some moving, some not. None of them were in D-7 with him, though. 

After his encounter with Ron almost four hours ago, he decided that it would probably be best that he not come into contact with anyone else. Of all people, he had expected that Ron would listen to his cause and join up with him, but instead he had seemed rather reluctant. It was probably for the best, though. The other boy had appeared injured, anyway. 

Stifling a yawn, he glanced at the tracker. There were two dots in the nearby church. They'd been there for at least as long as he'd had the tracker. Probably longer. Neville wondered idly who they might be. He hoped that they were two of the Six. 

Six Slytherins remaining, as far as he could tell. He knew for a fact that four were dead. There might be more dead, but he wouldn't know until the noon announcement came. He wasn't sure whether he would be upset or not that he would be denied his vengeance if someone else were to kill one of the Six. It might turn out to be a good thing, after all. It just meant one less person he'd have to track down. 

He glanced at his watch. Another hour before the noon announcement would be made. He was starting to grow impatient. He pondered for a moment whether or not he should pass the time with a Slytherin hunt, but ultimately decided not to. He needed a brief rest. He'd been rather busy earlier. 

Surveying the tracker once more, he quirked an eyebrow. Three dots slowly heading east from E-6. He went through the class list in his mind, trying to think of who they were most likely to be, but came up blank. Only Harry, Ron and Hermione would actually trust one another enough in a situation like this to team up, and Ron hadn't met with any of them. Ron was either traveling south along the shore alone, or he was the one who had died in F-7 an hour ago. 

He wondered. If it came down to those three, which one would be the last one standing? Which one would panic first and kill their friends? Or maybe two of them would sacrifice their lives so the other could carry on. How strong was their bond of friendship? 

Neville smirked. Friendship was just an illusion. 

**26 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 11:30 a.m.**   
Parvati Patil (Girl 17, Gryffindor) gently shook her sister awake. She probably could have let the other girl sleep in a little bit longer, and promised to herself that she would let her twin sleep longer next shift. 

"Hmm? What is it?" Padma Patil (Girl 16, Ravenclaw) yawned as she sat up and stretched. 

"It's 11:30," Parvati smiled. "You wanted me to get you up in time for the announcement." 

Padma wiped the sleep out of her eyes. "Yeah. Thanks." 

Parvati reached for the list of people they could trust that she had made. "I finished the list. Well, I'm not sure I got everyone, and I wasn't sure of everyone's names, so... Here you go." She handed the paper to her sister. 

Padma quirked an eyebrow. "If you weren't sure of someone's name, then they probably shouldn't be on the list." She looked over the list, blushing slightly as she came to one name in particular. 

Parvati's smile grew wider. "I knew it! I knew you liked him!" 

Padma's eyes widened, and she blushed, looking down. "Is it... is it that obvious?" 

Parvati giggled. "To me it is, silly. I don't think anyone else knows, though." She paused, sobering up. "You should tell him." 

Padma looked up, and waved her hands in front of her. "I couldn't do that! I mean, under these circumstances..." 

Parvati leaned closer, a serious look on her face. "It's because of these circumstances that you should tell him. Otherwise, you'll always live with that regret of what if." Her eyes twinkled. "And don't worry about me, I'll just hook up with Lavender or one of the other girls if the two of you wanted to be alone." 

Padma blushed deeply, and stood up, grabbing her pack. "Well, we should probably head out soon. I know you're probably impatient to get to the lookout." 

Parvati stood up as well, holding her pack. "Don't change the subject!" she said, smiling. 

Padma smiled. "Then stop pressing it. I'll tell you what. If we see him, I'll tell him how I feel. Deal?" 

Parvati beamed. "Deal." 

They shook on it, then walked out of the church, feeling a lot better than they had earlier in the morning. 

**26 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 11:42 a.m.**   
"This looks like a good place to set up base," Blaise said as he sat his pack down. The trio was currently in E-7, towards the edge of the forest. "I'll go set up the alarm system while we rest." 

Hermione looked confused. "Why are we stopping? Shouldn't we head to the clinic?" 

"Noon announcement will be soon. 'Sides, we need the rest." He took the wire out of his pack, and walked off. 

Harry glanced at Hermione. He was amazed that she could still stand. She wasn't looking very healthy at all. Sensing his gaze, she turned to him, then sat down on the ground. He followed suit. 

"You know," she began. "I remember reading something about this in _Hogwarts, a History_. It wasn't much. Barely a reference, really. But it had mentioned that in 1984, the sixth year class then had been chosen to take part of the program. There weren't very many details, but it gave me enough to conduct some further research." 

Harry nodded, prodding her. "What did you find out?" 

"Other than what the program was? Well," she continued hesitantly. "I was able to find out who won that year. You know Ron's brother Charlie?" Harry nodded, and she continued. "It was him. He won that year, back when Hogwarts played." 

Harry's eye widened. "Oh, god." 

Hermione nodded, then started crying. "I'm scared. I'm scared that I'm going to lose you, and Ron, and everyone else. Why do they make us do such horrible things?" 

Harry went over to her, trying to console her. "I'm not so sure that it's that they make us do horrible things. They make us choose. Kill or be killed." Just like the prophecy, he thought to himself. "Ultimately, we have free will, so we can choose whether to participate or not." 

"But why should we have to?" Hermione sobbed. "It's not right!" 

"I don't know," Harry said softly. 

Blaise returned, quirking an eyebrow at the sight. He didn't say anything, though, for which Harry was grateful. 

They sat there like that until Montgomery's voice resonated over the island. "Good afternoon! This is your supervisor speaking, but you already knew that, didn't you?" 

The trio tensed up. Hermione stopped sobbing, although there were still silent tears in her eyes. 

"I see you haven't been quite as busy as you were last night," he continued, "but you've still had quite a good morning. So let us go over the dead, shall we?" 

Harry's blood boiled at how cheerful Montgomery sounded. 

"Firstly, the boys. We begin with Boy 2, Michael Corner." 

Blaise put his hand behind his head, a sheepishly guilty look on his face. 

"Next we have Boy 9, Gregory Goyle and Boy 13, Draco Malfoy." 

Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't imagined that Malfoy would have died so quickly. He wondered just how it was that he had died, and who had killed him... 

"And wrapping up the boys, we have Boy 16, Zacharias Smith. We seem to have lost only one of the ladies this time around. Girl 15, Pansy Parkinson. Now let's stop dwelling on the past, and move on to the future! Maps out, boys and girls. Time to announce the new forbidden zones." 

Blaise had already taken out their map, Harry noticed. 

"At 1 p.m., B-8 will become forbidden. F-1 will follow at 3 p.m. And at 5 p.m., D-5 will round things out. Once more, you might want to leave these zones before they become forbidden. See you at dinner time!" 

The trio glanced at one another, but before any of them could say anything, a voice crackled over the island, electronically distorted. 

"Hey, everyone--" 

**26 students remaining**


	10. Proclamation

**September 2, 1996 -- 12:01 p.m.**   
The voice continued. "Hey, everyone. Listen up!" 

Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) widened her eyes. "That's Parvati's voice!" she whispered. "What is she doing?" 

Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) stood up. "I'm going to check it out." He walked towards the clearing, then gestured the others over. 

Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) and Hermione walked over to join Blaise. They could see the silhouettes of Parvati Patil (Girl 17, Gryffindor) and Padma Patil (Girl 16, Ravenclaw) standing on top of a viewing platform. Parvati was holding something in her hand that looked like a megaphone. 

Parvati continued. "We don't have to fight! Please! Everyone come here, and we can work something out!" 

Harry turned to Blaise. "Look after Hermione. I'm going over there." 

Blaise quickly stepped in front of Harry's path. "Don't be stupid!" 

Harry's eyes narrowed angrily. "I'm not going to just sit here while they endanger their lives like this!" 

Blaise shook his head, but didn't move out of the way. "How long do you think it will take for you to get there? All the while, you'll be out in the open, totally exposed to anyone who comes along. Do you want to die? And what about Hermione? Are you just going to leave her alone like that?" 

"Come on, everyone!" Parvati's voice resonated over the megaphone. "We're not playing!" 

Harry clenched his fists, looking towards the ground. "I can't just let them get killed like this." 

Blaise nodded, and took out his shotgun. He fired into the air. "If they're smart, they'll stop and go hide." 

There was silence for a few seconds, and then Parvati's voice started up again. "Whoever did that, please stop! I know that none of us want to play! So please--" 

Harry clenched his fists, and tried to break past Blaise. Before he could manage, though, he stopped in his tracks when the horrific sound of rapid gunfire went off, amplified by the megaphone. 

Parvati's shriek was also amplified. After a moment, Padma's screams joined her sister's. One of the twins fell, and the megaphone hit the ground. 

**26 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 12:04 p.m.**   
Padma was trying to crawl along the floor of the lookout to join her sister, but her body hurt all over. 'So this is what it's like to die,' she thought as she inched closer. 

"Padma?" Parvati's voice was weak. "I'm scared..." 

"Shh... Save your energy." Padma inched closer. "I'm here." 

"I guess... you were right... I'm sorry..." 

Padma tried to get closer, but stopped when their assailant joined them on the platform. 

Parvati shrieked as her body was once more riddled with bullets, then fell silent. 

"Parvati?" Padma looked over to her sister, even though it hurt to move. "No..." She looked up as the shooter walked over to her. Her eyes widened. "Neville?" 

He nodded as he aimed the gun at her. 

Padma smiled, even though it hurt to do so. "I guess... it would be kind of pointless to tell you this now... but I promised Parvati I would." 

He tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow. 

"I promised her... that if... if we saw you, I'd tell you... how... I felt about you." She looked at him. 

"How you felt about me?" 

Padma tried to laugh, but it came out as a coughing fit instead. "I think... I might have had a crush on you." She closed her eyes. "No regrets..." 

He nodded, then pulled the trigger of his Ingram. "No regrets," he repeated softly. 

He stood over her for a few seconds, then turned to the Patil twins' packs. He put the contents into his own pack. Ooh, grenades. Those might come in useful later. Taking one last look behind him, he ran off. 

**24 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 12:06 p.m.**   
The trio stood frozen in their tracks, trying to process what just happened. Hermione was sobbing hysterically, shaking. Blaise's face was somber. 

Tears ran down Harry's face as he fell to the ground on his knees. "No..." 

Blaise glanced at Harry, then grabbed his pack. "Right. Let's make tracks." 

Harry looked up at Blaise, anger in his eyes. "Is that all you can say? How can you be so cold?" 

Hermione looked at Harry. "Don't..." 

Blaise shook his head. "How long do you think it'll take before their killer comes over here? We have to move, or we'll be next. I don't know about you, but I don't have a death wish." He turned to leave. 

Harry looked like he wanted to say something else, but he thought better of it and helped Hermione up. "Let's go." 

Not bothering to deconstruct the alarm and take the wire with them, the trio departed. 

**24 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 12:16 p.m.**   
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) had just found the body of Daphne Greengrass when the noon announcement had come. It had been an absolute shock to hear Pansy Parkinson declared as one of the dead. Even though he had never liked her, he couldn't help but feel bad that he wasn't able to protect her. He wondered briefly whether Neville had killed her, as it appeared that he killed the girl before him, whose body was full of bullet holes. 

Before he could get lost too much in his thoughts, a female voice had said something over the island. He couldn't quite hear what she was saying; she was too far away. He had strained his ears to hear what she was saying, and then the amplified sound of Neville's machine gun blared over the island. There was a pause, and then it fired twice more, although the sound wasn't quite as loud that time. He wondered who Neville had killed this time. 

He continued to run along the coastline. He knew that he would have to be careful once he got to the west coast, due to the forbidden zones. But so long as he went north into the forest as soon as he saw it, he should be fine. 

He really didn't want to go back into the forest, but there was very little choice. Besides, he might find Harry or Hermione there. Neither of their names had been announced. Although it was quite possible that Hermione was the girl who had been silenced by Neville... 

No! He couldn't think that way. Besides, Neville's vendetta was against the Slytherins. He wouldn't kill his own housemates, would he? 

**24 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 12:26 p.m.**   
Although he very well could have followed the three moving dots with the help of his tracker, Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) chose not to bother. He was too busy trying to sort out his thoughts of what happened. 

When he had left the school, he had been absolutely terrified beyond belief. The mantra 'kill or be killed' kept repeating in his mind over and over. As he hid in one of the houses, a feeling of detachment rushed over him when he saw the Slytherin girl with the gun. And so he had constructed the barriers that kept him from feeling. A new mantra joined in, and he began his vendetta against the Slytherins. 

The mental barriers he had built didn't allow him to feel any guilt or remorse when he killed the Slytherins. They were treacherous and downright evil, and they could not be allowed to win, no matter what. He might have felt slightly nauseous the first time he killed someone, but that wasn't quite the same thing. 

This time, however, he actually felt bad. Maybe he hadn't completely shut himself away from his emotions as much as he thought he had, but this time was different. The girls were innocent victims, trying to gather as many people together as they could. Even if they were going about it in the stupidest way imaginable, they were just trying to do what they thought was best. 

At first, he was just going to leave them alone, even though his hiding spot was far too close to the lookout for his tastes. Someone in the forest was even kind enough to fire a warning shot. But when the girls stupidly continued... 

If he hadn't killed them, someone else would have. That's what he kept reminding himself of. And that was the conclusion he had come to as he had fired at them. Not only were they endangering themselves, but they were also endangering the lives of anyone else who might have been hiding near them. Neville didn't want to die yet. Not when there were still five snakes left in the game. If he didn't stop the Slytherins from winning, who else could he trust to get the job done? 

It was a pity, though. After Padma had told him that she had a crush on him, he thought about letting her go. But the same mantra of 'kill or be killed' repeated in his mind once again, so he killed her. It was a merciful act, really. If he hadn't, she would simply bleed to death there, or maybe be finished off by one of the snakes, who were sure to be attracted to the violence, vultures that they were. 

So he ran westward through the forest, trying to get as far away from the scene as possible. He didn't want to encounter anyone else yet. Not before he had made sure that there weren't any Slytherins left. He couldn't die before his mission was complete, because there was no one else who understood. Of all people, he had expected Ron to understand, and he hadn't. So there was no one who could help him. 

He slowed down to a walk and checked his tracker. He was getting near E-5, the zone directly south of D-5, which would turn forbidden at 5 p.m. B-8 and F-1 -- the other two forbidden zones -- were along the shoreline, where there was far too much open space. He had been pleasantly surprised to find the tracker automatically marked the zones for him. He had still marked them on his map, though. Just in case. 

He really wished the other boy would stop following him, though. 

**24 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 12:41 p.m.**   
Wayne Hopkins (Boy 10, Hufflepuff) tried to keep a sizable distance between himself and his quarry. It must have been fate that he had been hiding out in the forest near the lookout. He had been contemplating the thought of looking for the other boy, but decided to wait out the noon announcement where he was. And then who did he find but the very boy he was looking for! How lucky could he get? 

And what a naughty boy Neville was! Why, shooting two of his classmates with _that gun_. It sent shivers down Wayne's spine to know that the meek little mouse had grown into a mighty lion. He had always known the other boy was a lot stronger than everyone gave him credit for, but he had no idea just how strong. 

It was a little disappointing that Wayne would have to kill him in the end, but that wouldn't be for a rather long time. In the meantime, he would follow from a safe distance, carefully keeping as quiet as possible so that they other boy wouldn't know that he was being followed. And when everyone else was gone, and Neville dear had forgotten all about him, he would strike. He had the utmost confidence that Neville would last until the very end. Few people would dare mess with the boy that had _that gun_. 

It was rather difficult to keep quiet while running through the forest, but Wayne did not want to lose sight of the other boy. Not after destiny had brought them together as it did. He was also starting to crave the sweet taste of dear nicotine, but would have to resist the urge until after he had taken care of business. 

He clutched the Derringer in his hand. 

**24 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 12:59 p.m.**   
Vincent Crabbe (Boy 4, Slytherin) was getting worried. Of the 14 students who he knew had died so far, five of them were his own housemates. It was quite possible that more of his housemates were dead as well, due to the gunfire that had gone off almost an hour ago. He had been rather surprised that Goyle and Draco had been amongst those that died earlier, but found that he wasn't particularly disappointed. Neither of them had been particularly subtle or anything like that. They probably ended up challenging the wrong person to a fight or something. 

Crabbe took out his map, trying to determine where the remaining Slytherins might be hiding, based on what he knew about them. He had a nagging suspicion that someone had it in for them. So he hesitantly decided he would try to find the others, although he didn't really know any of them very well. Well, he knew Millicent Bulstrode (Girl 5, Slytherin), but the other three came as complete mysteries to him. 

Dismayed, he put away his map. Maybe finding the others was a bad idea. For all he knew, the shooter could be one of his own housemates. He really didn't want to give in to fear and paranoia, but it was getting increasingly harder to stay calm. He hadn't slept in hours. 

He wished that he had hooked up with Harry when the two had met earlier in the night. Although a lot of people had their doubts about him due to all the articles that discredited him, Crabbe knew that the other boy was trustworthy. He'd always had a gift of being able to gauge someone's sincerity and trustworthiness. Maybe it was because people let their guards down around him, believing him to have the brain of a rock. He was able to see someone's true face that way. 

He looked up as he heard rustling in the bushes ahead. "Don't move," he said. The rustling stopped. "I'm not playing, but I have a gun and I will shoot you if I have to. Now slowly come out with your hands where I can see them." 

Slowly, Ron Weasley emerged from the bushes, hands raised in the air. When he saw Crabbe, he stopped. "Bloody hell. What is it with me and Slytherins?" he muttered under his breath. "I'm not playing, either," he called out. "I'm just looking for Harry and Hermione." 

Crabbe nodded, lowering his gun. "Figures. Wish I could help you, but I have no idea where they are now. I saw Harry last night, but he's probably long gone by now." 

Ron perked up. "You saw him? Is he alright?" 

Crabbe shrugged. "Was when I saw him, but that was quite some time ago. You see anyone?" 

Ron hesitated. "I saw Neville. He's the one with the gun. I think he killed one of the girls. I forget her name, but she's back there along the coast." 

Crabbe nodded. "And here I figured it was Nott." He sighed and leaned back against his tree. "Damn." 

Ron nodded. "He mentioned something earlier about having a real grudge against you Slytherins. You might want to be careful." 

Crabbe sighed. "Do you know what happened to the others?" 

Ron hesitated. He wasn't sure what to say, lest the other boy panic just as Pansy had done. Unlike Pansy, though, Crabbe had a real gun. "I... I met up with Malfoy and Goyle earlier, back at the clinic. They tried to kill me." 

Crabbe shook his head. "Figures. How'd you escape?" 

Ron looked down at the ground. "I... Uh... I kinda threw some acid into Malfoy's face. Got a flare in my gut for what it's worth." He looked back at Crabbe, trying to sense his reaction. "And I ended up lodging my flail in Goyle's skull." 

Crabbe nodded. "You did what you had to." 

Ron's eyes widened. He was rather surprised that the boy was taking it so well. 

"They tried to kill you, right? I'd probably have done the same." He looked at his gun. "So how'd you learn Neville was the shooter?" 

Ron sighed and sat down at the opposite end of the clearing. "After I left the clinic, he must have gone there, because I heard gunshots. He found me later as I was hiding in the forest." He paused. "I'm really beginning to hate the goddamn forest." 

Crabbe chuckled. "You and me both." 

"Anyway, we got to talking. As he was leaving, I saw the gun." He put his head between his hands. "I just don't get how he could just get so much into the game like this." 

Crabbe shrugged. "How well do any of us really know each other?" 

They sat there in silence for a few minutes. "You know, Ron," Crabbe started. Ron looked over to him. "If Neville's got it in for us Slytherins, he might kill you if he sees you with one of us." 

Ron's eyes widened. "Do you really think he would?" 

Crabbe shrugged. "Dunno. But it might be a good idea to part here anyway. I'm sure he's not the only one hunting us down." He looked at the ground. "We've always been a bunch of jerks, haven't we? Most likely half the class has some grudge against us. Never imagined it would come back to haunt us like this, though." 

Ron nodded as he stood up. "Karma, I guess. I should probably keep looking for the others." 

Crabbe nodded once, and the two parted ways. 

**24 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 1:17 p.m.**   
Eloise Midgen (Girl 13, Hufflepuff) clutched her gun tightly. When she had left the school the night before, someone had tried to kill her. She was able to get away before they succeeded, though, and had run into the forest. It was quite by accident that she had found a good hiding place in an old storage shed. 

She was planning on waiting them all out, letting them kill each other off one by one, all the while forgetting about the girl they had so mercilessly teased in the past. Forgetting about poor, ugly, pizza-faced Eloise. 

One time last year, she had fallen asleep in History of Magic class, and when she woke up, someone had cruelly decided to play "connect the dots" with her acne. She walked around the school like that for half the day, enduring giggles and taunts, until a first year told her that someone had scribbled on her face. 

She hated them all. All of their teasing and their taunts. The way they giggled behind her back. The way all of them made fun of her behind her back. But she would get her revenge. She would outlive them all, letting them destroy one another. 

She turned to the picture she had of Anton Rex, the lead singer of Chaos Dragons, which was a rather popular band. Looking at his picture could always calm her down. 

"So what do you think, Anton? Do you like my chances of survival?" 

Naturally, the picture didn't say anything back, but Eloise didn't seem to notice. 

She nodded. "I'm not so sure that I'll survive, either. Everyone likes picking on me." She held up her gun, showing it to the photograph. "But I have this. Nobody will mess with me so long as I have this, right?" A pause. "Well, I don't care what you think! I'll just shoot them before they can shoot me!" Another pause. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. It's just that I'm rather edgy today. Forgive me?" She nodded. "I probably should get some sleep. I'm just scared that if I do, someone will kill me." Pause. "You'll watch over me? Oh, thank you, Anton! I honestly don't know what I'd do if you weren't here with me. Will you sing to me?" She smiled, then curled up on the floor. "Thank you." 

Eloise Midgen was losing her mind. 

**24 students remaining**


	11. Falling Apart

**September 2, 1996 -- 1:36 p.m.**   
Cornelius Fudge (Minister of Magic) was in a very foul mood. He had been stuck inside a meeting with the other world leaders all morning. It was the same as it had been every year he had attended since he had become Minister of Magic. Some of the leaders wanted to put Program 12 on hold indefinitely, and this year's excuse was that running it while You-Know-Who was running around was dangerous. Naturally, there was opposition to its cancellation, but not quite as much as there had been the year before. Even the American Secretary of Magic seemed like she was wavering on the matter, which was rather surprising due to how violent and disrespectful American youth were these days. She of all people should be one of the most vehement supporters of the program. 

Before they had taken their break for lunch, they decided that the continuance of the program would all depend on how this year went. If things didn't go smoothly, not only would the program be cancelled, but they made veiled threats that Fudge might very well lose his job. His entire career was on the line. 

To make matters worse, when he returned to his office, a secretary informed him that his own junior assistant had been arrested after attempting to sabotage the program. Fudge was certain that the other leaders would have a good laugh about that, and use it as extra ammunition toward canceling the program. 

They were supposed to meet again in less than half an hour, and he was supposed to go over the preliminary report that he was supposed to have been given earlier. He supposed that he could apparate to the island himself and get Montgomery to report directly to him, but there wasn't enough time left. 

Things were falling apart. 

**24 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 1:57 p.m.**   
Justin Finch-Fletchley (Boy 6, Hufflepuff) held his crossbow steady, taking aim at the boy running below. Although Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) wasn't one of his own disloyal housemates, the other boy held _that gun_, which Justin had long ago decided he wanted for himself. He shifted to get a better shot, and aimed carefully, so that he would hit the other boy as he ran past. Careful now, and fire! 

Neville stopped short, narrowly avoiding being hit by a crossbolt. Hoisting his gun at the ready, he glared at the direction it had come from. Someone had just attacked him. Well, they gave him no choice but to attack right back. 

Justin frowned as he reloaded the crossbow he held. He hated how long it took to reload. He looked down below him, seeing that Neville had noticed him, and was aiming the gun at him. Justin swore. 

Keeping his gun trained on Justin, Neville looked at him coldly. "I suppose there would be no point in asking you why you just fired at me, right?" 

Beads of sweat ran down Justin's forehead. "I wasn't supposed to miss." He shook his head, and glared down at the other boy. "You don't deserve that weapon!" he shouted. "You're just like all the others! Stupid and weak!" 

Neville raised an eyebrow. "Let me get this straight, you try to kill the guy with the gun, fail, and then insult him?" He sighed and shrugged. "It's a pity, really." He pulled the trigger of his gun, shooting Justin out of the tree. 

He walked over to other boy's fallen pack, and dumped its contents onto the ground. "Hmm?" He set his smoking gun down on the ground, and picked up a couple of the throwing knives. "Interesting..." 

Justin tried to crawl over to his crossbow. He might still have a chance... 

Neville got up and stepped on Justin's hand. "Looks like you either got lucky with two weapons, or you killed someone and took theirs." He kicked the other boy over with his foot, so that Justin was facing him. "Either way, it makes no difference to me." He knelt down and stabbed the throwing knives into Justin's eyes, blinding him. "You're just like them..." 

Justin screamed as he raised his hands. He grabbed Neville's wrists as the other boy pulled out the knives. Neville smiled, then jerked his hands enough so that the knives he was holding slashed open Justin's wrists. The other boy let go, and Neville calmly walked back to his pack and gun. After depositing the contents of Justin's pack into his own, he pondered on whether or not to take the crossbow as well. He didn't really need it, and it would just make his already heavy pack even heavier, but on the other hand, if he didn't take it, someone else might. He might not be so lucky as to hear them before they could strike next time. 

Coming to a compromise, he put the crossbolts into his pack and stood up. Without them, the crossbow wouldn't be of much use as a weapon. He glanced over to Justin, who was whimpering as he bled to death. He hated to leave a job unfinished, because for all he knew, someone might find him and tend to his wounds. The last thing he wanted was to die before his time. He didn't want to use his gun again, although he had plenty of bullets left. He might need them later. And he certainly wasn't going to waste a grenade on the dying boy. 

Taking out the rest of the throwing knives, he walked over to Justin and pinned his hands to the ground. He paused as the boy cried out faintly. He held one of the knives that hadn't been used yet, and stabbed it as deep as he could right below Justin's ribcage. Pulling down hard, he made a vertical slit down his abdomen. He paused once more. The other boy barely made a sound except for his ragged breathing. He wasn't dead yet? 

Neville pulled the knife out of the other boy's wound and stood up. He walked over towards Justin's head, and stomped down as hard as he could on his windpipe, crushing it. 

After a few minutes had passed, he released his foot, certain the other boy was dead. Sure enough, the other boy was still. Satisfied, Neville finally grabbed his belongings and went on his way. 

**23 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 2:04 p.m.**   
Wayne Hopkins (Boy 10, Hufflepuff) remained frozen in horror at the scene that had just unfolded. He knew that Neville had killed others before, but never imagined that he could be capable of doing something so savage and vicious. Wayne wasn't quite sure whether he should continue following the other boy or not, but ultimately decided that it was better to do so. With only one bullet, he wouldn't have a very easy time out there on his own. No, it was better to stick close to the other boy as the numbers dwindled. Even though it did make him want to vomit. 

Besides, he wanted to stick to his plan. Follow him, and when the time was right and they were the only ones left, shoot him. It wouldn't do much good to lose him now. 

Quietly, he followed the other boy. 

**23 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 2:22 p.m.**   
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) had stumbled upon the general store purely by chance. He had been rather hesitant to enter at first, but after debating with himself for a few minutes on the best course of action to take, ultimately decided to enter. Anything was better than hanging around the forest. And he might be able to rest there, besides. He was growing rather tired. 

The first thing he noticed when he entered was a bloodstain on the floor. It looked like someone had been injured here or something. He wondered who it was. He hoped it wasn't any of his friends. 

He really missed them. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't so sure that he was going to survive, and he didn't want to die alone. He knew that there were many people actually playing and killing. Some with guns, some with other weapons most likely. The number of gunshots and deaths didn't quite add up. 

It seemed so very long ago, when he and his friends had met up at the train station. He wondered if what Ginny had said about Hermione having feelings for him was true. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about her. Sure, she was a friend, and she was a girl, and he felt differently about her than he did Harry, but he wasn't quite sure whether it was just friendship or something more. Maybe she had been right about him having the emotional maturity of a teaspoon. 

But yesterday was an entire lifetime ago. A lifetime when their biggest worry was about inane things like what classes they were going to take, whether they were going to end up getting detention from Snape, who they liked, and other simple things like that. He wished that he had a time-turner, so he could go back to that life. Even if he survived, he doubted that he could ever go back to that life. Not without his friends. 

'_Yesterday, I woke up in the morning, late as usual. Outside the birds were chirping, and downstairs my Mum was yelling at me to get out of bed and get ready to go. Sleepily, I tried to shout down for her to give me five more minutes. I don't think I sounded very coherent, though, because she sent Ginny upstairs to wake me up. I yelled at her for pulling me out of bed, then went downstairs and had breakfast. The kitchen smelled nice. Like coffee and sausage. We were running late, so I barely had time to get dressed before we had to leave. I miss that life full of all those simple little things._' 

Ron curled up in a ball and cried. 

**23 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 2:45 p.m.**   
Vicky Frobisher (Girl 7, Gryffindor) was really beginning to hate the forest. She had been wandering around ever since she left the school, occasionally stopping to rest. She didn't really have anywhere to go, or anyone she wanted to look for, but there were quite a few people she wanted to avoid. Such as Hannah Abbott (Girl 1, Hufflepuff). It was just plain scary how everyone believed Hannah to be some sweet and innocent little girl. If they knew half the things Vicky knew about the other girl, they certainly wouldn't think that anymore. 

She held her gun as she looked around. As much as she wanted to get out of the damn forest, she didn't want to risk exposing herself in the open. Up ahead she could see an old house with a shed. Maybe she could hide out in there for the time being. She hated all this moving around. 

She approached carefully, hoping that no one else was hiding in the house. Just a few more steps. 

BANG! One of the wooden posts on the porch she was standing on shattered into splinters. Vicky quickly ducked to the ground, partially hidden by the railing supports. She looked in the direction of where the shots had come from. The shed. Someone was in the shed. 

Well, crap. 

**23 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 2:49 p.m.**   
It had taken them most of the day, but the trio was almost at the clinic. And not a moment too soon, as Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) had nearly collapsed with exhaustion almost half an hour ago, and had to be carried the rest of the way. 

As they approached the clinic, they could hear gunshots firing nearby. Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) exchanged a look with Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin), who was currently carrying Hermione on his back. 

Harry set the pack he was carrying onto the ground, and took out the Smith & Wesson. "I'm going to check it out," he said, pointing in the direction the gunshots were coming from. 

"Don't be stupid!" Blaise said, frowning. 

Harry ignored him, and ran towards the gunshots. He could hear Blaise shouting something behind him, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to stand by and let more of his classmates get killed. Not like before. He could have saved Parvati and Padma, and just stood by and watched them die. But no more. No more! 

The gunfire continued as he ran. Finally getting to the scene, he could see Vicky Frobisher ducked on the porch of a house, having a shoot-out with Eloise Midgen (Girl 13, Hufflepuff). He couldn't tell who was winning from where he was. 

He shook his head, reminding himself that it didn't matter who was winning. They shouldn't be firing at one another. He raised his gun in the air and fired a shot. Both girls stopped and looked at him. 

"Stop! You don't have to do this!" he shouted at them. 

"The hell you doing, Potter?" Vicky asked, standing up and lowering her gun. "You trying to get killed?" 

He turned to Vicky. "We don't have to do this! There are others not playing. I'm sure that if we all worked together, we can find a way out of here! So please!" 

"They're out in the open, aren't they Anton?" Eloise said from the doorway of the shed. She fired her gun, and Vicky shrieked with pain as the bullet tore through her shoulder. 

Harry turned to Eloise. "No, wait!" He glanced at Vicky, who was now running off, then turned back to Eloise, who smiled and skipped towards him, a crazed look in her eyes. 

She looked down at her picture of Anton Rex, who smiled and posed in the photograph. "Bad girl ran away. Always teasing poor Eloise. Laughing, and playing connect the dots, and laughing some more. But bad boy still here." She aimed her gun right below his nose, finger on the trigger. "Boys always teasing. Never want anything to do with poor little Eloise except to make fun of her and make her cry." 

Harry closed his eyes. He realized now that it had been a mistake, coming here. Why did he have to play the hero? 

There was a gunshot. For a brief moment, Harry wondered why he didn't feel dead, then opened his eyes as he realized he wasn't dead. He looked down to see Eloise's body on the ground below. He looked around and finally saw Blaise, smoking shotgun in his hands. 

"Goddamn it, Harry. You trying to get yourself killed?" His features softened as he walked over and picked up Eloise's gun. "Let's go." 

Harry nodded, slowly stepping around Eloise. "Right. Er, where's Hermione?" 

Blaise led them back. "Waiting room of the clinic. You better hope no one shows up there before we do." 

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry." 

"Think nothing of it." 

**22 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 2:58 p.m.**   
Things were finally back on track. Harry and Blaise walked into the clinic. Hermione was sitting in one of the chairs, barely awake. Harry sat down next to her, sighing with relief. 

"Right," Blaise said. "I'm gonna go check out the back. Make sure it's safe. Oh, and Harry? If you hear any more shootouts, stay here." 

Harry nodded. "I won't make the same mistake twice." 

Blaise nodded and headed into the back. 

Hermione weakly looked to Harry. "What happened?" 

He turned to her. "A shootout between Vicky Frobisher and Eloise Midgen. I tried to stop them, and nearly got killed. Blaise saved me." 

"Oh." 

They sat there in silence until Blaise returned. 

"Well, looks like no one's hiding back there," he said. "But I guess we know where Goyle and Malfoy died." 

Harry turned to him. "What?" 

Blaise pointed behind him into the back. "They look pretty messed up. You might not want to look if you can avoid it, but they're kinda sprawled across the hall, so it might be hard." 

Harry nodded and stood up. Reaching a hand out, he helped Hermione get up as well. She wavered, but he was able to catch her in his arms before she fell. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he helped her walk towards the door that led to the back. 

As soon as Harry stepped into the back hall, he could see exactly what Blaise had meant. He turned Hermione around so she couldn't see the corpses of Goyle and Malfoy. "Oh, god..." 

Blaise nodded. "Careful, now. There's a room back here. She needs a shot of antibiotics. You want to do it?" 

Harry shook his head. "I hate needles." 

Blaise chuckled as he pushed open a door. "Noticed that earlier." 

They walked into the room, and Harry sat Hermione down onto the bed there in the room. He wondered why there was a bed, but figured that since this was the only medical clinic on the island, some of the rooms must have beds for overnight stays or something. Blaise took a small bottle out of the cabinet, and after reading the instructions, took out a syringe as well. 

"Any allergies?" he asked as he grabbed some cotton swabs and disinfectant. 

Hermione shook her head weakly. "No." 

Blaise nodded and poured some disinfectant on the cotton swab. "Good. Harry, roll up her sleeves and hold out her arm, palm up." 

Harry nodded as he obeyed. "Have you ever done this before?" 

Blaise raised an eyebrow as he swabbed Hermione's arm with disinfectant. "I told you. I used to help my uncle out at his practice. Even though he administered the shots, I've seen him do it enough times to know how to do it." He walked back to the counter, and stuck the syringe into the bottle of antibiotics. "Hold her steady now." He compressed the needle slightly to get the air bubbles out. 

He walked over to Hermione and injected the syringe. She winced a little at getting a shot, but didn't complain. Finished, he removed the syringe and wiped her arm with the cotton. "If I had a lollypop, I'd give you one, but I don't, so sorry." He walked back to the cupboard and threw the used syringe in the wastebasket. He grabbed a box of adhesive bandages and walked back. "I do have race car bandages, though." 

Hermione smiled weakly as he bandaged her up. Harry let go of her arm. 

Blaise stretched. "Let's let her sleep for now. I'm going out for a smoke. Oh!" He put Eloise's gun down on the stand by the bed. "You shouldn't need it, but just in case." 

Hermione nodded as she curled up on the bed. 

The boys walked out of the room. 

"Why go outside? Can't you smoke in here?" Harry asked. 

Blaise shrugged. "Unsanitary. And I hate smoking indoors. Gives me a headache. Your hand still bugging you?" 

"A little." 

Blaise nodded as he walked back into the waiting room. "I'll get you some real painkillers when I come back in." He waved. "Ten minutes. Look around if you want, but don't take anything unless I say it's okay." He walked outside. 

Harry walked back into the back. He thought about going back to check on Hermione, but decided to just let her rest. And the whiskey he had drunk earlier was starting to get to him, so he went off in search of a bathroom. 

True to his word, Blaise returned ten minutes later. Walking down the back hall to check on his patient, he stopped as he saw Harry standing in the bathroom, holding a black piece of cloth in his hands. "What you got?" he asked. 

Harry turned around to face Blaise. "Ron. He was here. These are his robes." He pointed to the red prefect badge pinned to the robes. 

**22 students remaining**


	12. The Trap

**September 2, 1996 -- 3:37 p.m.**   
Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) closed the door that led to the back rooms, and joined Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) in the waiting room of the clinic. "She's still sleeping," he said as he sat down. He looked to the other boy, who didn't respond. "Hey. I'm sure he's still alive." 

Harry turned to Blaise. "But how can you know?" He put his head in his hands. "I should have waited for him back at the school." 

Blaise started to reach a hand out to him, but then thought better of it and drew back. "You can't dwell on what ifs and should haves. You'll find him. Alive." 

Harry nodded slowly. "Should we tell Hermione when she wakes up?" 

Blaise leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. "You know her better than I do. I wouldn't, but it's your call." He paused. "What would you do if it came down to just you and her?" 

Harry looked at him, confused. "What do you mean? You're not planning on ditching us, are you?" 

Blaise shook his head. "No. But if I died, and it was just you and her left. What then?" 

Harry looked to the ground. "We'll find a way to escape. I know it." He looked back up at Blaise. "It won't come to that. I know it." 

Blaise slowly nodded. "I hope you're right." 

The pair fell silent. After a few minutes, Blaise stood up and looked at his watch. "I'm going out. You staying here?" 

Harry stood up as well. "Does smoking really help you relax?" 

Blaise shrugged. "Helps me. I think it's more due to habit, though." 

"Mind if I try one?" 

Blaise opened the door. "Suit yourself. I doubt Hermione would approve, though." 

They walked outside, and Blaise leaned against the building, taking out a cigarette. Lighting it, he offered the pack to Harry. "If you're sure. It'll just make you cough a lot, though. Nasty habit to get into." 

Harry hesitated, then took a cigarette. Blaise handed him the lighter and he lit it. Blaise watched him for a few seconds, then chuckled as Harry started to cough. 

"Told you so," he said as he took a drag of his own cigarette. 

Harry blinked exaggeratedly. "So how'd you get in the habit?" 

Blaise shrugged. "My uncle smokes. Guess I just picked it up from him." 

There was another lull in the conversation. After coughing a few times, Harry finally declared, "I think it's safe to say that I won't be smoking again. It just makes me cough, and everything keeps moving around." Blaise nodded, and Harry tossed his cigarette onto the ground. 

"Nicotine buzz'll do that. It'll fade away in a few minutes. And before you ask, I don't get the buzz anymore. Been smoking too long." 

Harry nodded, then turned to the door. "I'm going back inside. I think I might need to sit down for a while." 

"'Kay." 

Harry went back inside, nearly tripping over a chair as he tried to sit. He glanced to the back door, which was bouncing around an awful lot for a door. He wondered whether or not he should tell Hermione about finding Ron's bloodied robes. Maybe once she woke up and was feeling better, but there was no point in worrying her right now. He had a sneaking suspicion that she had already made herself sick with worry. 

**22 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 3:58 p.m.**   
Mandy Brocklehurst (Girl 3, Ravenclaw) wished more than anything that he had waited for her. He always knew how to put things right and make all the bad feelings go away. But she could understand why he hadn't waited for her. He might not trust her. She was one of the "bad girls". She knew that he took flack from his friends just for associating with her, and wished that she could turn back time and prevent herself from ever meeting up with Hannah. 

She had originally joined up with Hannah after the other girl caught her shoplifting at one of the stores in Hogsmeade. Soon, she was being blackmailed and things just snowballed from there, until Mandy's reputation was completely tarnished from all of the jobs Hannah had her do. 

But he looked past all of that. He saw the real her deep inside, and didn't care about what she had done. She had vowed to clean up her act for him, because she knew he deserved better. But even though they cared for one another, their relationship could only be described as rocky, at best. Every other week, they would argue about some silly little thing or another, only to get back together the very next day with no mention of what they argued about. They didn't even bother with apologies, because they knew that they were both sorry for the quarrel. Words would only spoil things. 

But she wanted to see him. She didn't really mind dying if she could see him for one last time. She didn't think she was going to survive, anyway. She just couldn't bear the thought of killing anyone. She may have done some rather horrible things in the past, but she would never stoop so low as murder. She wasn't like... 

She put her head in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably. Some of her classmates were playing. She had heard the gunfire off and on all day. And it wasn't all from the same gun, either. 

After a few minutes had passed and she got herself under control again, she picked up the Colt .45 by her side. It scared her to think that she might have to use it, but she had to see him before she would die. After that, it didn't really matter. 

She was still crying when she heard a rustle in the bushes behind her. Tears in her eyes, she spun around, pointing the gun at the figure emerging. She couldn't quite make out who it was. "Stay away from me!" she screeched. 

"Mandy?" The figure stepped forward. Mandy's eyes widened as she was able to recognize him. 

"T-Terry?" It was him! It was really him! She lowered the gun and rushed over to him. He embraced her. "I was so scared that I'd never see you again!" They kissed. 

Breaking the kiss, Terry Boot (Boy 1, Ravenclaw) turned to her. "Hey, you're crying," he said as he gently brushed away some tears that had fallen down Mandy's cheek. 

She smiled. "I'm just so happy to see you." 

He nodded, then looked down to the gun still in Mandy's hand. Her eyes followed his. "Luck of the draw, huh? I got stuck with this." He held up a dagger. 

"Oh," Mandy blushed. "I forgot I was still holding this... You hold on to it. I don't think I could use it, anyway." 

He took the gun and smiled. "Always the protector, huh?" He aimed the gun at Mandy's forehead. 

Mandy's eyes widened. "Terry, what are you--" 

"Always the one protecting the goddamn whore." His hand trembled. 

Mandy sank to her knees. "No... It was only that one time, before we were together. Hannah made us..." 

Terry hardly looked sympathetic. His eyes had a crazed look in them, and he was trembling. "Run," he hissed. 

Mandy just started at him, eyes wide. "I don't..." 

"Just get out of here before I kill you, you filthy whore!" he shouted, tears forming in his eyes. 

Mandy stood up, shaking. "You... You aren't supposed to do this..." She reached for him, pleading. 

He shoved her to the ground and pinned her down. "Do you want to die? Is that it? There can only be one survivor!" He was crying now. "What do you have to live for? I-I have a future... Dreams..." 

Mandy's face softened, and she relaxed her body. "I understand." She smiled. "You always were able to make all the bad go away." She closed her eyes. "Kill me." 

She waited for the gun to go off, but it didn't. She felt a few drops of liquid fall on her cheeks, and she slowly opened her eyes. He was crying. Her Terry was crying. 

"Mandy..." 

There was an odd sound, like a knife being thrust into a watermelon. Mandy's eyes widened as Terry's motionless body fell across her. "No..." She tried to crawl out from under him, but he was too heavy. A hand reached down to help her up. 

Hannah Abbott (Girl 1, Hufflepuff) smiled down at Mandy as she helped the other girl up. "Long time no see." 

As Mandy got to her feet, she looked down to see the sickle embedded in Terry's skull. "No..." 

Hannah ignored her as she went for the gun in Terry's hand. Prying his fingers loose, she smiled as she finally held a gun in her hands. 

Mandy was trembling violently, tears steaming down her face. In just one instant, she had lost the one person more important to her than anything else. Lost... 

"No no no..." 

Hannah continued to ignore her as she tried to pry the sickle loose from Terry's head. Mandy looked at her and shoved her aside. 

"Leave him alone!" she screamed hysterically. "How could you! He understood me! He wouldn't kill me!" 

Hannah sighed as she aimed the gun at Mandy. "And that's why I had to kill him." She fired, letting Mandy's lifeless body fall on top of Terry's. 

Calmly, she extracted the sickle loose. 

**20 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 4:15 p.m.**   
Montgomery leaned back in his chair and smiled. His three assistants were in the room with him this time, so there would be no repeat of the day's earlier events. 

"Things are getting to be quite interesting, don't you think?" he asked to no one in particular. 

"Sir?" One of his assistants turned to him. 

"Hmm?" Montgomery turned to him. "Oh, just musing about how we have a number of contenders this year. Who do you think will win?" 

"If I had to choose?" The assistant, Clayton, paused to think. "Well, that Longbottom kid seems like a real contender." 

Montgomery smiled. "Yes, he does. How about you Sanchez? Who's your favorite?" 

Sanchez looked up. "Nott seems to be a good choice. Once he gets his hands on a firing weapon, I would imagine that he could give Longbottom a run for his money." 

The supervisor nodded. "Another good choice. You going to bet on one of the ladies, Delacroix?" 

Delacroix looked at the monitor. "Well, I think the Abbott girl might end up surprising all of us. What about you, sir?" 

Montgomery smiled. "My money's on Blaise Zabini. He has just the right kind of mind to win. Shrewd enough to know how to survive most encounters. Cunning enough to know how to gain the trust of others. I almost pity the young lovebirds for inviting him into their nest. Almost." He shrugged. "Granted, I do have my own reasons for wanting him to win." 

He smiled as he leaned closer to the monitor. "Yes, he certainly is the apple of his father's eye." 

**20 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 4:36 p.m.**   
Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) had awakened less than five minutes ago. She was still quite tired, and didn't feel the least bit well at all, but the nightmare she had frightened her. 

In it, the faces of all her dead classmates flashed before her, telling her that she should join them. She shook her head and ran away. Somehow the hallway she had been in became a forest, and she tripped over a fallen branch. Getting up, she saw that the branch wasn't a branch after all, but rather the corpse of her friend Ron. He looked to her with an accusing look in his eyes and asked her where she was when he died. She shook her head and backed up, muttering an apology. 

A tree stopped her from backing up any further, and then something that could only be described as a monster appeared in front of her, growling ferociously. Scared, she had raised the gun that she hadn't been holding before and fired at the monster. It fell to the ground, and that's when she realized it was Harry. She sank to her knees and cried, and then woke up. 

Getting out of bed carefully, she tiptoed to the doorway, opening it. She wondered briefly where Harry and Blaise where, but figured that they were probably in the waiting room. She stepped quietly through the hallway, seeing the corpses of Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle for the first time. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying hard to suppress the urge to vomit. Closing her eyes, she stepped around them and opened the door to the waiting room slightly. She peered in and sure enough, Harry and Blaise were sitting in a couple of chairs, looking toward the front door. 

"I still say that it might be a bad idea to tell her," Blaise said. "Even after she's better, how do you know that it just won't worry her more?" 

Harry turned to Blaise. Hermione had to strain her eyes to focus, but she could see that he was holding some cloth in his hands. "But she has a right to know. He's her friend, too, you know. Ron might be hurt out there." 

Hermione's eyes widened and she stepped forward. "What about Ron?" 

Harry and Blaise turned to her. She walked over to them. "Harry, what about Ron?" She looked at the cloth in Harry's hands, finally recognizing them as robes. She grabbed them out of Harry's hands, and saw the red prefect badge. "Oh, God..." 

The boys stood up. "Hermione," Harry started. He paused, as he didn't know what to say next. 

Blaise stepped forward. "You should go back to bed." He felt her forehead. "You're still burning with fever." 

Hermione took a step back, then regretted it as she felt dizzy. "Where did you find this?" 

Harry looked down. "They were on the bathroom floor." He looked back up. "But he's still alive, right? We'll find him, but you need to get some rest so you can be strong." 

Hermione shook her head. "We have to go now! He could be hurt!" 

Blaise shook his head and started leading her toward the back. In her weakened state, she couldn't resist very much. "No. You're sick and need rest. We'll find him later, after you've recovered. Don't make me give you a sedative." 

Hermione looked like she was going to say something more, but then decided not to. She was far too tired to argue, and they were right. She knew that in her state, they wouldn't get very far. She let them lead her back to the room where she had been resting in. 

**20 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 4:54 p.m.**   
Wayne Hopkins (Boy 10, Hufflepuff) watched on as Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) glanced at his watch and got up. Neville had been sitting by that tree ever since he had killed Justin. Wayne had wondered if the other boy had fallen asleep, but apparently not. He was really craving a cigarette right now, but resisted the urge to light one up, lest he alert the other boy to his presence. 

He saw how mercilessly Neville had killed Justin, and knew that he would share the same fate were Neville's attention to turn to him. The scariest part was, he sensed no hostility on Neville's part toward his victim. Just a job he had to do. The other boy was becoming a monster, losing a little bit more of himself with every life he took. 

Wayne quietly followed Neville as he walked westward, looking around him as he went. He wondered briefly where he was being led, but didn't bother checking his map. He figured that Neville knew exactly where he was going, and would avoid forbidden zones. He wasn't suicidal. So long as Wayne stuck close, he should have no problems with the danger zones, either. 

Neville approached a building in a clearing, and after checking his map and looking around him, went inside. 

Wayne covered his mouth as he realized it was a restroom. Trying to stifle giggles that were threatening to escape, he took out his map and consulted it. The restroom wasn't marked on the map, which made it hard to determine exactly where they were. He supposed that they must be just short of D-5, which would be forbidden in only a few minutes. 

He glanced at his watch. 4:57. Looking back at the restroom, he waiting for the sprinkling sound to finish and for Neville to emerge. It wasn't as though he didn't trust the other boy's sense of direction, he just didn't like being so close to a forbidden zone. Although it was true that Neville was closer to the zone than he was. 

He took out a cigarette and wafted it under his nose, taking in the aroma as he waited. It sure seemed to take a long time. He must have held it in for quite some time. 4:59. 

He frowned in the general direction of the restroom, trying to telepathically compel the other boy to finish up. Still the sprinkling continued. 

He frowned even deeper, and decided to sneak closer to see what the holdup was. The door was slightly ajar. Closer now... 

A gust of wind blew the door open. Wayne's eyes widened as he saw the water bottle propped up on a towel rack, a small stream of water trickling out. There was a window in the back, wide open. He quickly backed away, and looked around in a panic. 

To the northeast he could see Neville running away, safely out of the confines of D-5. 

_5 seconds to five._

"But if you're... Then I'm..." 

_3 seconds to five._

Neville turned around, and looked at Wayne coldly. 

_1 second to five._

Wayne's eyes widened. "Oh, fu--" 

_Five o'clock._

**19 students remaining**


	13. The Calm Before the Storm

**September 2, 1996 -- 5:01 p.m.**   
Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) turned back to face north, now satisfied at knowing what exactly happened to someone caught in a forbidden zone. He had been wondering that ever since it was mentioned back in the classroom, and now he knew. While he was at it, he also got rid of that annoying boy who was following him. He had thought that the way he killed Justin would have been enough to scare the other boy off, but no. Too bad that he had to be so stubbornly persistent. 

Neville looked at his tracker. Most of the remaining students were hiding out in the forest west of the school, although there were some groups hiding out in buildings. He doubted that any of the snakes would trust one another enough to hang out in groups, though. So it was just a matter of tracking down each student and killing the Slytherins. He'd worry about the groups later. 

Checking his location, he re-entered the forest via D-6 

**19 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 5:14 p.m.**   
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) opened the door slightly and looked in at the sleeping Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor). He hoped her fever would go down soon. He closed the door, and stepped into the hallway. They really needed to do something about the corpses that were sprawled out in the hall. 

Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) emerged from the room that he had been in, and gestured for Harry to join him. Harry followed him. 

"What's up?" he asked quietly as he looked around the room. There was a small pile of food gathered on the table in the center. 

Blaise smiled. "Found the kitchen." He turned back to the sink, where there was a pot sitting over a fire. "Making us some real food right now." 

Harry looked back to the food on the table. There was canned soup, packaged pasta, and other non-perishables gathered. "What are we having?" 

"Right now? Stew from a can. Not much, but it'll do. I can make something else if we're all still hungry later." 

Harry nodded and sat down in a chair. "Should I wake Hermione up?" 

Blaise shook his head as he focused on his cooking. "Not yet. She needs to bring her fever down first. Hey, she's not a vegetarian, is she?" 

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. Why?" 

"The stew's got meat in it. Well, I think it's meat." He raised the lid and stirred the stew inside with one of the spoons he had found on the counter. "I'm actually not sure what the hell it is." 

Harry chuckled. "Soylent green?" 

"That's disgusting," Blaise laughed. He took the spoon out of the pot and put it back on the counter. 

Harry shrugged, and the two fell silent. 

"Want some coffee?" Blaise asked as he took the bubbling stew off of the fire and poured it into three bowls on the counter. "It's instant coffee, though, so it'll taste like crap." 

"Oh. Uh, why?" 

He shrugged. "Because instant coffee is just plain nasty." 

Harry shook his head. "No. I mean why are you making coffee in the first place?" 

"Most everyone'll be running on empty. Caffeine'll help you keep alert." Blaise put the used pot in the other side of the sink, then grabbed a small pot from the counter, placing it onto the fire. "Also have tea, if you want." 

Harry nodded. "Coffee's fine." He watched Blaise go over to the refrigerator on the other side of the room and take out a jug of water. "I'm surprised there's a kitchen in here." 

Blaise shrugged, pouring some of the water into the small pot. "As I said, only clinic on the island. Sick people need to eat." He grabbed the instant coffee off of the table, and put some into the pot. 

They fell silent once more. Harry checked his watch. "We're eating rather early, aren't we?" 

Blaise shrugged as he grabbed a tray out of the cupboard above the counter. "I want to give us time in case we have to bail after the announcement. Clinic could become forbidden at seven, for all we know." 

Blaise placed one of the bowls onto the tray, along with a spoon, and then brought the other two bowls to the table. "Eat up." He sat the bowls down and grabbed a couple of spoons off the counter, handing Harry one. "The coffee'll be done in a couple of minutes." 

"Aren't we waiting for Hermione?" 

He shook his head as he sat down in one of the chairs by the table. "We'll bring her something once she wakes up. Let her sleep in the meantime." 

It wasn't until they ate that Harry realized just how hungry he'd been. 

After they were finished, Blaise walked over to the sink and took the small pot off of the fire. "Coffee's done," he said. He took out a couple of mugs from the counter, and poured the coffee into them. He handed one to Harry as he sat back down. 

"I do what the voices in my head tell me to," Harry read the mug. He smiled and took a sip. 

Blaise smirked. "I'm apparently the world's greatest grandma." 

Harry snickered. "Well, keep reaching for that rainbow and someday you will be." 

After Harry finished his coffee, he stood up. "I'm going to check on Hermione." 

Blaise nodded as he poured himself some more coffee. Harry walked out and head towards Hermione's room. Opening the door slightly, he saw her sitting up. 

"Hey, you're awake," he said as he went over to her and felt her forehead. "Looks like your fever's gone down, too." 

Hermione nodded. "Uh huh. I feel a lot better." 

Harry smiled. "You feeling good enough to eat? Blaise found some real food in the kitchen. He made stew and coffee. There's other stuff if you want, though." 

Hermione shook her head. "That'll be fine." She grabbed Harry's hand as he turned to leave. He looked to her. "I just wanted to say thanks. I know that I'm just a burden..." 

Harry shook his head and sat down next to her. "No, you're not! Don't even think that!" 

Hermione smiled and hugged him. Harry felt his face flush, although he didn't quite understand why. 

They stayed like that for a short while until Blaise coughed from the doorway. They separated quickly, blushing. He smirked. "Sorry, but the patient needs to eat." He put the tray he had been carrying on the bed. "Stew and coffee. If you'd prefer tea, we've got some of that, too, but it'd take a few minutes to heat up." 

Hermione nodded as she picked up the spoon and started eating her stew. "This is fine. I'm surprised you found real food." 

Blaise pointed behind him. "Kitchen back there." He went back to the door, an amused smirk on his face. "I'll just be leaving you two alone now." 

Harry finally recovered his wits. "It wasn't what you think!" 

Blaise chuckled, then waved. "Sure it wasn't." He left. 

Hermione turned to Harry. "What was that all about?" 

"I'm, uh..." Harry began stupidly, blushing. "Not quite sure." 

Hermione just looked at him skeptically as she ate. 

**19 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 5:59 p.m.**   
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) had awakened only seconds ago, and looked frantically at his watch to make sure he hadn't missed the evening announcement. He sighed with relief as he found he still had time to spare, although he did cut it a little too close. 

He yawned and stretched and looked around. The fact that he was still alive told him no one had killed him in his sleep. He sighed. He shouldn't even have to worry about things like that. 

In about thirty seconds or so, Montgomery would cheerily announce who had died, and where the forbidden zones would be. Ron crossed his fingers in anticipation, hoping that Harry and Hermione were still alive. And also hoping that he wouldn't have to move from his hiding spot. He had made himself rather comfortable where he was, and didn't want to leave unless it was absolutely necessary. 

The waiting was the hard part. Waiting to know if his friends were dead or alive was not his idea of a good time. He wanted to be waiting for them back in the common room, so they could all go down to dinner in the Great Hall together. But just wanting it wasn't enough. 

"Good evening, boys and girls!" Montgomery announced cheerfully over the island. "I see you've all had a good afternoon." 

Ron kept his fingers crossed, praying that his friends weren't listed among the dead. 

"We'll start listing the dead once again starting with the boys. Boy 1, Terry Boot; Boy 6, Justin Finch-Fletchley; and an interesting Boy 10, Wayne Hopkins. Why do I say interesting? Well, it seems the lad just couldn't keep himself out of a forbidden zone. I do hope that all of the rest of you will be smarter than that. Moving on to the girls--" 

Ron relaxed slightly. Harry's name hadn't been called, so at least he was still alive. 

"--Girl 3, Mandy Brocklehurst; Girl 13, Eloise Midgen; Girl 16, Padma Patil; and finally Girl 17, Parvati Patil." 

Ron let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Both Harry and Hermione were alive. But he couldn't quite bring himself to feel totally relieved. More of his classmates were dying. 

"Lastly," Montgomery continued, "Take out your maps, my pets. J-7 will become forbidden at 7 p.m. G-9 at 9 p.m., and B-3 will wrap things up at 11 p.m. Learn from the mistakes of others and don't let yourselves get caught in one. Other than that, keep up the good work!" 

All was silent once more. Ron hugged his knees close to his chest. He was safe for now. 

He just hoped his friends were safe as well. 

**19 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 6:03 p.m.**   
Harry watched as Blaise went from room to room, muttering under his breath as he gathered things and put them into his pack. After a couple minutes of this had passed, Harry finally spoke up. "Is this really necessary? I mean, we can stay here for a couple more hours, can't we?" 

Blaise stopped and looked at him. "Yes, but we need to get everything together so we can bail as quickly as possible when the time comes." He walked to the cupboard. "Should've done this sooner." 

Hermione watched him. "Where will we go?" 

Blaise shrugged as he looked at a bottle, then put it into his pack. "Don't know." He looked to her. "How up to traveling are you feeling? Do you need to rest more?" 

Hermione shook her head. "I'm feeling a lot better now. I think I just made myself sick with fear and worry." 

Blaise nodded. "Before we leave, I'm going to go catch some sleep in the waiting room. Not really tired, but it's best to sleep while one can." 

Hermione stood up. "You could sleep in here. I don't need to stay in here anymore." 

Blaise shook his head. "Nah. I don't want to intrude in case the two of you decide to do something naughty." Harry and Hermione blushed, and he left the room, waving. "Night." 

There was a pause as they sat there in silence. 

"Half of us are gone..." Hermione said so quietly that Harry barely heard her. He turned to her and she continued, looking to him. "We need to come up with an escape plan. Find a way to get rid of the collars." 

Harry furrowed his brow in thought. "I doubt that we could just cut them off. Montgomery said that they'd go off if we messed with them too much." 

Hermione nodded. "There must be a bomb somewhere inside them." She looked into the distance, thinking. "There's probably some way for them to detonate them by remote control, so they'd have to be electronic in nature. Possibly magical, but I doubt it. Magic doesn't mix well with muggle technology. Maybe..." She trailed off, lost in thought. 

Harry looked to her, trying to urge her on. "Maybe?" 

She looked back to him. "Maybe if we could find a way to interfere with the electronic signal magically, then we could find a way to remove them safely before they could get the signal through." She paused and looked to the ground. "But without wands that would be hard. Even with wands it would be difficult to gather enough magical energy." 

"Wandless magic?" Harry shrugged. 

Hermione sighed. "Even to the most experienced of wizards, wandless magic is very difficult to master. I don't think that we would stand a chance of learning anything powerful enough to actively interfere with the signal. Not in such a short amount of time." She paused, thinking again. "If I knew exactly how the collars were built, then maybe I might be able to find something that could electronically jam the signal. But even that would take time, and I don't know how the collars were built." 

Harry sighed as he looked at his hands. He thought he might need to change the bandages on his left hand before they left. "I was telling Blaise earlier that if we could somehow take Montgomery hostage, we might be able to escape using him." 

Hermione gave him a look. "I doubt that we could get him as a hostage, and even if we could, he's probably expendable. They wouldn't care." She sighed and muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "sometimes I don't know why I bother". 

Harry couldn't help but be reminded of the scene back at the train station, and how she said the exact same thing about Ron. He wondered just how she felt towards the other boy. 

"I know it's horrible," Hermione said, interrupting his thoughts, "but I can't help but wonder who out there is killing everyone." She put her head in her hands. "Why do people have to do such horrible things? Why can't they just hold on to the hope that we'll find a way out?" 

Harry just stared into space. "Not even 24 hours has passed, has it?" 

Hermione looked to him. "Huh?" 

Harry sat back, looking at the ceiling. "Not even 24 hours has passed since we were at Hogwarts, watching the sorting and having the feast. And now half our class is dead. That was such a long time ago..." 

Hermione nodded, and the two of them sat there in silence. 

**19 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 6:46 p.m.**   
Vicky Frobisher (Girl 7, Gryffindor) sat at the westernmost point of the island on the beach of G-1. She didn't care that she was out in the open. It was a nice and flat area where she could see people approaching her from any side. Not like they could approach from either the north or east. F-1 and G-2 were forbidden zones. No, someone would have to approach through H-1, and that was the direction she was facing. 

She had been rather relieved when there weren't any more danger zones announced in the general area she was hiding in. It would be a rather bad thing to just trap herself in. As it was, the only bit of land that was trapped so far was A-3, and that was just a tiny bit of land at the northern coast. But anyone there had until 11 p.m. to get out of there. 

That didn't concern her much, though. What really concerned her was her shoulder. Although it wasn't bleeding as much now as it had been before, it still hurt like hell. She knew she should have gone to the clinic to get it fixed up, but she had been afraid that psycho Eloise was still lurking around, waiting to finish her off. And soon after she had been announced as one of the dead, the clinic was declared an upcoming forbidden zone. Damn psycho. 

So Vicky sat there, clutching her gun and forcing herself to stay awake as she kept guard over the only direction one could approach from. She couldn't fall asleep. Not when her life depended on it. Not when there was a chance she might not wake up by midnight in time for the announcement. She didn't want to be caught unaware in a forbidden zone. Nor did she want to be caught unaware by a student approaching. 

She wondered if that Potter kid was all right. He was rather stupid for stepping into the middle of a gunfight, but then, she had heard he did lots of stupid things like that. He wasn't announced as one of the dead, but for all she knew he could be dying. 

She shook her head. That didn't concern her. All she needed to be concerned with was staying alive. And to stay alive she needed to stay awake... 

She yawned. Angry at herself, she stood up. She couldn't stay in one position for too long. Not when there was the chance she would fall asleep. She took the class list out of her pack, deciding to study it. She knew there were multiple killers on the island, based off of all the gunshots she had heard that sounded like they came from different guns, and all the silent deaths that she hadn't heard. 

'There aren't very many students left,' she thought to herself as she sat back down and looked through the names, trying to figure who might be playing based on who was left and what she knew about them. She would be absolutely shocked if Hannah wasn't playing. 

She was going to pencil in a 'K' (for 'killer') by the other girl's name, but stopped herself. She knew if she started suspecting everyone, she'd end up making herself paranoid and lose her mind. 

She put the class list back into her pack, and took out a cigarette. She didn't care if it alerted other students to her presence. She was in a good spot, and could see anyone approach. She lit the cigarette and kept her vigil, keeping her gun close to her side. 

Occasionally she'd catch herself drifting off, and would gingerly tap the lit end of her cigarette to her arm when she did. It hurt like hell, but the pain helped keep her awake. She didn't care if she'd have ugly cigarette burns on her arms. She just needed to stay awake. 

She scowled as she finished her cigarette. Now she wouldn't have that to keep her awake. Not unless she kept smoking until the game was over. But she wasn't a chain smoker, nor did she have enough on her to last quite that long. All she could do was chant the mantra in her head. 'I will not fall asleep.' 

Five minutes later, she fell asleep. 

**19 students remaining**


	14. Separation

**September 2, 1996 -- 7:28 p.m.**   
Hannah Abbott (Girl 1, Hufflepuff) wandered around the forest aimlessly, looking for her next victim. She was really glad to have the gun in her hand now, and wanted the chance to use it. Maybe if she were very lucky, she would encounter the person with that beautiful machine gun. Then she would be certain to emerge victorious. 

She was somewhere in the vicinity of E-6. Safely out of the confines of a forbidden zone, but there were two of those nearby, so she doubted that very many students would be hiding about. On the other hand, some of them might, so it was better to check to make certain. 

Not quite paying attention to the ground in front of her, she nearly tripped over something. She was able to maintain her balance, however, and looked down at the offending object. 

"A crossbow," she muttered quietly to herself as she picked it up. A weapon's a weapon, and it might come in handy later. She checked to see if it was loaded, and frowned to find that it was not. Glancing around for the crossbolts, her eyes fell upon the body of Justin Finch-Fletchley. She raised an eyebrow. It looked as though her housemate had died rather horribly. 

Setting the crossbow aside, she walked over to him. "My, my. Someone's sure done a number on you, haven't they?" She smiled. "I might have to start taking things more seriously, won't I?" Naturally, he didn't answer back, but she hadn't been expecting an answer. She bent down in front of him, investigating his wounds. Other than all the knife wounds (and the crushed throat), it appeared as though he'd been shot as well. She remembered the sounds of the machine gun going off earlier, and figured that it must have been Justin who was shot. Her grin grew wider. 

"Looks like I've got me a real rival," she said as she stood up. 

Searching one last time for the crossbolts, and coming up empty, she decided that it was time to vacate and continue her search for someone alive. 

**19 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 7:46 p.m.**   
Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) loitered somewhere in the vicinity of I-7 at the southern beach, resting while he allowed various thoughts to flow through his mind. 

'Kill or be killed.' The mantra that had run through his mind since the beginning of the game was louder than ever. The reality of just what that meant only sunk in after he had been attacked by Justin Finch-Fletchley. It wasn't just the Slytherins who were playing; other students were as well. So if he was to make sure that no Slytherins won, he would have to kill anyone else he met. A rather discouraging thought, almost, but after thinking it over, it was the only way. The others had shown their true colors, and it was the same green and silver as that of the snakes. 

He was playing to win now. It didn't matter whether the people he faced were friend or foe. Anyone who he came across would die. 

He glanced at his tracker. He wasn't sure of which direction he should take. There was a lone student in H-4, probably resting. It wouldn't be much of a challenge to take them down, regardless of what weapon they might have. Well, maybe grenades might give him a few problems, but he doubted that more than one student would be equipped with such a weapon. There were some students hiding out in the outskirts of the residential district, which was rather close, but the trio of students in G-9 looked to be the most attractive of them all. 

He checked his watch. In less than an hour and a half, G-9 would become a forbidden zone. Unless they were simply waiting there to die, they would most likely be leaving soon. And if he got there before they left, he would be able to ambush them as they were leaving. 

Smiling, he made his decision and walked northeast. 

**19 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 8:06 p.m.**   
Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) glanced nervously at her watch, and then to the sleeping form of Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) on the bed. She wasn't quite sure whether she should wake him or not, but they had less than an hour to vacate the clinic. 

She was rather surprised that no one else had come to the clinic, to be perfectly honest. After all, any student out there who was injured might need medical care, and with the clinic becoming a forbidden zone at 9:00 p.m., this was their last chance. But it was quite possible that everyone was too afraid to come lest they encounter a killer. It was just too horrible to imagine that some of her classmates were killers, but trying to deny the truth would do no one any good. 

She gently shook Harry awake, even though she didn't really want to. She knew that he hadn't gotten much rest all day. 

"Huh? Is it morning already?" Harry mumbled sleepily as he stirred. Hermione shook him again. "Ugh. I'm up." He slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

Hermione nodded and walked towards the door. "Good. We have to be out of here in less than an hour. I'll go wake up Blaise, and I expect you to be up and moving by the time I get back." 

"Yes, Mother," Harry smirked. 

Hermione gave him a look, and then headed to the waiting room. 

Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) was already up, checking his map. He glanced up at her briefly as she entered the room. "Not sure where we're going next. Any ideas?" 

Hermione shrugged. "No clue. What are our options?" 

Blaise took out a cigarette, but didn't light it yet. "North or south along the coast, or west in the forest." He raised his hands protectively as Hermione gave him a look. "Hey, you asked." He picked up the map that had fallen onto his lap. "If you're looking for your friend, we might try searching in some of the buildings around the island. If he's hurt, he wouldn't want to move around much. At least if he's smart." 

Hermione nodded and sat down in a chair by him. "Do you really think we'll find him?" 

Blaise sat back, a thoughtful expression on his face. After a long pause, he finally spoke. "To be bluntly honest, I don't like our chances. People are dying out there." He paused once more. "You are really going to hate me for saying this. But," he turned to her, "what happens if it turns out he's the shooter?" 

Hermione's eyes widened with shock and she stood up. "He wouldn't do that!" 

Blaise nodded sadly. "Maybe not. You know him better than I do, so I'll defer to you on that one. But who do you think it is?" 

Hermione sat back down and looked at the ground. "I can't even begin to imagine who might do such horrible things." She quickly looked to him. "But I know it's not Ron! He wouldn't!" 

Blaise nodded, and there was silence. Hermione wondered whether Harry was going to come out and join them or if he might have gone back to sleep. She knew that he needed the rest, but they also needed to leave soon. 

"Carpe diem," Blaise said quietly, breaking the silence. 

"Huh?" Hermione turned to him. 

He turned to look at her. "Seize the day. You really should do that. You might not get another chance." 

She looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?" 

He just shook his head and stood up, smiling enigmatically. "Smoke break. Back in ten." He waved as he headed toward the front door, leaving her puzzled. 

Just as Blaise exited the building, Harry emerged from the back, looking rather sleepy still. He joined Hermione in the waiting room, sitting down in one of the chairs. He watched the perplexed Hermione for a few moments, then looked to the front door. 

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, and then Blaise came back inside hurriedly and grabbed the shotgun he had left on his chair. "We have to move. Now. Someone's coming." 

Hermione stood up. "Did they see you?" 

Blaise nodded. "Probably. Let's go." He grabbed his pack, and headed towards the back. 

Harry stood and grabbed his pack. "I thought we were leaving." 

Blaise turned to him. "We are. Out the back. There should be a fire exit or something." He paused. "I don't want to say this, but if we get split up, we should all meet up somewhere. Happy surgery land?" He smirked. 

Harry blinked, trying to think of what that meant. Hermione snickered. It finally dawned on him that Blaise was referring to the store. "Might have been happy for you, but it wasn't for me." 

"That's because you were either crying like a baby or passed out," Hermione teased. Harry stuck his tongue out at her. 

"Let's move," Blaise said, heading into the back. Grabbing their packs, Harry and Hermione followed. 

As they walked down the hall, Blaise would open doors and peer through them. So far no fire exit. He frowned. There weren't any exits marked, either. He muttered something about the clinic violating a number of fire safety laws. 

There was one last door they hadn't opened at the end of the hallway. Hoping that it would be the exit, Harry and Hermione held their breath as Blaise opened it. 

"The hell?" Blaise made a frustrated noise as he led them down the new hallway that had just been revealed. Towards the end, they could see a plainly marked fire exit. He turned to the pair. "Get your guns out. We'll be out in the open when we leave. Probably have to shoot our way to safety." 

Harry and Hermione nodded, and took out their guns. Harry held the Smith & Wesson .38 that had once belonged to Michael Corner, while Hermione had Eloise's SIG-Sauer 9mm. Blaise held his shotgun ready as he cautiously approached the door. 

He pushed open the door with one hand, then quickly aimed his shotgun out into the open space. They couldn't see anyone. Blaise nodded, and the three of them ventured outside, looking around to make sure that no one was around. Keeping close to the building, they slowly crept north. 

Right before they had reached the northeast corner of the building, Harry, who had been at the flank of the group, took one last look behind him. His eyes widened as he recognized Neville Longbottom standing at the southeast corner, holding a gun in one hand. Harry's reflexes as a seeker came into play as he saw something trace an arc in the sky above, coming towards them. "Scatter!" he shouted as he ducked towards the east, firing his gun at Neville, who ducked behind his corner. 

Blaise and Hermione ducked around their corner as quickly as they could. Seconds after they had done so, the flying object finished its trajectory, and exploded right where the three had been previously. Not wasting any time, Harry got up from his crouched position, and ran as fast as he could after Blaise and Hermione. 

He stopped as he saw they were in the parking lot. There were a few vehicles that were left abandoned, and Hermione was currently breaking the window of one of them with the butt of her gun. Harry's eyes widened. "What are you doing?" 

Hermione reached through the broken window and unlocked the door of the truck. "No time, get in." She slid in behind the driver's seat, and reached to unlock the door of the passenger's side as well. Harry jumped into the passenger's seat, while Blaise hopped into the bed of the truck. 

"Come on..." Hermione bit her lip as she fiddled with something below the ignition. The truck started, and she smiled. "Hold on tight." 

Just as the figure with the gun came around the corner, Hermione floored the accelerator. Harry didn't even have time to look at her before he was lurched backward. He looked into the rear view mirror to see Blaise barely manage to stay in the back of the truck, but then recover. 

Another projectile came flying toward them. "Grenade!" Blaise shouted from the back as he fired his shotgun at the shooter. 

Hermione nodded, and sped them up. The grenade landed behind them, missing them by only a few feet. Harry closed his eyes tightly, trying to calm his nerves as the truck rocked forward. 

A couple minutes later, he had relaxed enough to open his eyes. "Where'd you learn to hot-wire a car?" he asked Hermione. 

She just smiled, a maniacal gleam in her eyes. "You can learn all sorts of interesting things from books." 

They rounded past the lookout where the Patil twins had been killed. Harry looked at it as they passed. "I guess we know who the shooter is," he said softly. 

"Eh?" Hermione didn't take her eyes off the road. "Who?" 

"It's Neville." 

"Incoming!" Blaise shouted from the back as he fired a couple of shots behind him. 

Hermione glanced into the rear view mirror. "Son of a bitch!" she hissed. 

Harry turned around. There was a minivan behind them. Blaise ducked down as he reloaded the shotgun. Harry rolled down the window, and stuck his arm out, firing at the minivan. 

Hermione frowned as she sped up. "Get back in here. You might hit Blaise by accident or fall out or something." 

Harry reluctantly climbed back inside, and Blaise got back up, firing a few shots. Sparks flew as one of the minivan's tires blew out and the vehicle spun out of control, heading toward some rocks near a lighthouse. 

Smirking, Hermione sharply brought the truck around the corner towards the edge of the forest. Once again, Blaise was nearly thrown from the truck as it spun around a few times before coming to a stop. 

"Bail out!" Hermione shouted as they came to a stop. They took no time to get out and head into the forest. 

Harry could see the ruins of an old building ahead. They ran as quickly as they could toward what remained of one of the outer walls. They could hear their assailant making his way into the forest as well. Ducking behind the southern wall, they caught their breath and waited. 

Blaise dared to peer through one of the cracks in the wall. Behind the northern wall was Neville, who fired his gun at them. Blaise quickly ducked back in as cement shattered into dust, then fired back when the rattling of the machine gun stopped. 

Ducking back, he turned to Harry. "Help me out here." 

Harry nodded, and fired blindly in the direction Blaise had fired. He ducked as Neville re-emerged and fired back. He held out his injured left hand toward Hermione, who handed him her gun. Waiting for the next pause, he got up and fired both of the guns at Neville. He was pretty sure that at least one of the bullets hit, as Neville stumbled back and dropped to the ground. 

Harry looked behind them, then turned to Blaise. "How fast can you run?" he asked. 

Blaise shrugged. "So long as it's short distance, I'm good to go. Why?" 

Harry nodded. "We can only go further into the forest, right?" He ducked as shots rang over his head. "I'll keep Neville here. You take Hermione and go. I'll catch up with you later." 

Blaise nodded. "Happy surgery land?" 

Harry smiled and nodded. 

Hermione looked between them frantically. "Don't I get a say in this? We should all stick together!" 

Harry shook his head. "If we do, he'll follow. Just go!" 

Hermione nodded slowly, then crawled over to Harry. "Be careful." After hesitating for a moment, she kissed him on the cheek. More shots fired over their heads, and she backed away from him. 

There was a pause in the rattling, and Harry fired at Neville, who ducked once more. Blaise grabbed Hermione's hand, and the two of them ran further into the forest. Whenever Neville would emerge from behind his wall, Harry would fire at him, forcing him to retreat. He relaxed slightly as Blaise and Hermione disappeared into the forest to the east, then decided that it was time for him to make a break for it as well. 

Firing a few more shots at Neville, he got up, making sure to keep his head low. Neville was currently ducked behind his wall, which was good. Harry knew that he could easily outrun the other boy, especially since he had a head start. 

He sprinted as fast as he could to the trees to the southwest. No point in going in the same direction as Blaise and Hermione yet. He would meet up with them later. He was almost there when he heard the sound of the gun rattling behind him once again, and felt something burn through his side. He fired back blindly and ducked into the forest. 

He continued to run, despite the aching in his side. The machine gun went off again. Harry almost dropped the gun in his right hand as he could feel a bullet tear through his upper arm. By some miracle, though, he was able to hold on and fire back with the gun in his left hand. He grimaced as he could feel some of his stitches pop. Still he ran. 

The machine gun went off again, but this time it no longer sounded as close as it had previously. If he had been shot again, he didn't feel it. 

He wasn't certain which direction he was running to anymore. It didn't really matter, so long as Blaise and Hermione were able to get away to safety. And Neville sounded like he was a lot further away. But Harry couldn't relax yet. 

For the second time that day, he found himself falling. Somehow he must have reached a small cliff, and was now skidding down the steep slope, just as he had done when he fought with Zacharias Smith. 

As he landed on the ground below, he felt the breath get knocked out of him. Groaning, he tried to get up, but fell forward. He shouldn't be so badly hurt that he couldn't get up. He had to get back with Blaise and Hermione... 

He cursed himself. If Neville found him like this, then who would protect Hermione? 

He tried to get up again, but fell to the ground again and lost consciousness. 

**19 students remaining**


	15. Goodbye

**September 2, 1996 -- 9:01 p.m.**   
Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) cursed under his breath as he picked up the tracker from the floor of the minivan. He probably should have taken it with him when he went chasing after the trio in the woods, but had just been so focused on his quarry that the thought hadn't occurred to him. After he lost sight of them, he decided it would be best to track their movements. But now... 

He scowled. The tracker must have broken when the car had slammed into a boulder. It would make his job a lot harder, but he hadn't had the tracker originally, and had done just fine. He'd learn to get by without it. And he had marked the forbidden zones on his map just in case, so he was in no danger there. 

In a foul mood, he went back into the forest. They had gotten a rather good head start, and probably changed directions multiple times to make it harder for him to follow them. No matter. He would find them again. Somehow. 

In the meantime, he might as well take his frustrations out on those who he had seen earlier on the tracker. He remembered seeing some hiding out in the residential section. So long as they hadn't moved, he might be able to take some of them out. Chances were likely that some of the snakes were hiding out there as well. 

He paused to check on his bullet supply. He had plenty to spare, but should probably reload his gun before he went out hunting. And if he was lucky, he might come across the trio. 

After reloading his gun, he smiled and went on his way. 

**19 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 9:21 p.m.**   
Hannah Abbott (Girl 1, Hufflepuff) frowned. For the past two hours she had been walking through the forest, and hadn't encountered anyone yet. She had contemplated going back to the region where she had heard the unmistakable sound of a gunfight, but figured that those involved who survived would likely be long gone by the time she got there. She hated missing out on all the fun. 

Upon consulting her map, she confirmed that there was a store up ahead. There might be someone hiding there, and even if there weren't, there might be some food at the store she could eat. It would be good to eat some real food for a change. The bread rolls she had been supplied with were not real food. 

Cautiously, she approached the store. No point in getting this far only to be ambushed by someone hiding in some bushes. She smiled as she stood in front of the door. Now or never. 

Upon walking inside, the first thing she noticed was Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) sleeping on the floor. She smiled viciously and aimed her gun at him. She froze when he stirred and opened his eyes. 

Ron blinked, then shifted into a crouching position, watching her. 

Hannah lowered the gun. "You're not playing, are you?" she asked in a small voice. Although she could probably shoot him before he got to the katana lying on the floor next to him, it was simply more fun to play the innocent. 

Ron continued to watch her. "Are you?" 

Hannah forced herself to break into tears. "I'm just so scared... I--" She got an idea and smiled inwardly. This would throw him off guard. "I saw your friend back there. He tried to kill me..." 

"My friend?" He trained his eyes on her gun, slowly moving his hand toward the katana. 

Hannah nodded. "Harry. He had that gun. He met up with that girl you hang out with and killed her." 

Ron's eyes narrowed as he wrapped his hand around the katana. "Liar." 

"Eh?" Hannah was fuming inside. How dare he see through her and not be caught off guard? He was ruining her fun! She was careful to make sure her inner feelings didn't show, so she just looked at him, letting tears run down her cheeks. 

Ron slowly stood up. "I should tell you who the shooter is, but I'm not going to now." Although he didn't know how to wield a katana properly, he held it in what he supposed was a position where it appeared relaxed, but was in fact in a position to strike if need be. 

Hannah balked. He knew who the shooter was? How was it that he was still alive, then? She recovered and sighed. "I'm sorry. I guess I just wanted you all to myself." She looked back up at him, fresh tears in her eyes. "I can be rather jealous like that." She smiled slightly. "Will you help me?" 

Ron continued to look at her coldly. "Put the gun on the floor, then we'll talk." 

Her eyes widened. "But how do I know that you won't charge me with that if I do?" 

Ron shrugged. 

Hmm. He was being rather difficult. "How about this, then. On the count of three, you lay down your weapon, and I lay down mine." 

Ron shook his head. "Just leave." 

Hannah narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "But there are people playing out there!" She could feel her act crumbling. She hated feeling so frustrated. Trying her best to compose herself, she continued. "At least tell me who the shooter is." 

The boy shook his head once more. "Sorry." 

Hannah's eyes turned cold. He wasn't buying her act. And if he wouldn't play along, and wouldn't tell her what she needed to know, then his use was over. "It's too bad, then." She raised her gun and fired at him three times. He fell to the floor. 

She walked calmly to the door and opened it. Looking back at him, she smiled. "It's too bad you're just so damn stubborn." Smiling, she ventured back outside. 

**19 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 9:45 p.m.**   
Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) stopped as she arrived at her destination. She turned to wait for her companion, who was lagging behind. He hadn't been kidding when he said he was no good at long distance running. Probably because he was a smoker, she figured. 

Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) joined her, out of breath. "Sorry," he muttered. "Hate running." 

Hermione smiled slightly. The smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Maybe you should quit smoking." 

Blaise shook his head and smirked. "Maybe I should quit running." 

Hermione shook her head and opened the store's door. Her eyes widened. "Ron!" she shouted as she ran inside. 

Blaise furrowed his eyebrows and followed her inside. He stopped in the doorway as he saw her holding the fallen body of her friend. It looked like the other boy was still alive, but just barely. 

"Ron, hold on!" Hermione pleaded as she held him. "Don't you dare..." 

Ron opened his eyes and looked up at her. "'Mione?" He coughed up some blood. "Looked for you..." He grimaced. It hurt to talk. 

Hermione shook her head. "Who... Who did this?" 

Ron closed his eyes. "Ha-Hannah. Watch out... for her..." 

Hermione nodded, tears falling down her cheeks. "Yeah..." 

Ron opened his eyes and tried to smile. "Hey... You're crying..." He raised a hand to her cheek, trying to wipe away a tear. "Smiles... suit you better..." 

"No..." 

Tears fell down from Ron's eyes as well. "Now I'm crying..." He tried to laugh, but it came out more as a cough. "So glad... Found you..." 

Hermione nodded. "Yeah... So hold on. We'll heal you up--" 

Ron tried to shake his head. "No... I know I... won't last much longer. Just... stay here... Don't want to... die alone..." 

Hermione sniffled. 

Ron closed his eyes. "I'm sorry... Never told you..." 

There was silence. Hermione looked down at him tearfully, wanting him to continue, but he didn't. 

"No..." Her voice squeaked. "Open your eyes..." There was only silence to answer her. "Please no..." 

But there was no answer, and after a minute had passed, she broke down completely, sobbing uncontrollably she held his lifeless body. 

**18 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 10:21 p.m.**   
Theodore Nott (Boy 14, Slytherin) surveyed the ruins. He knew that a gunfight had taken place there not quite an hour ago, and had been hoping to find a more useful weapon among the carnage. But there was nothing. Not even a dead body. There was some blood, and empty shells from the guns, but nothing more. A disappointing venture, really. Not like he had been expecting more. 

At least whoever had been involved was long gone. The weapons he had were best for melee combat, so wasn't ready to face someone who might have a gun. Not unless he could sneak up on them and take their weapon. 

It was almost pointless to go to old battlefields. Anytime he had come across one, all of the weapons had already been taken. At the same time, if he came across any living students, they might fight back and he might lose. He had gotten lucky so far, but one could never tell when their luck might run out. 

He knew that he couldn't be the only one looking for better weapons. A scavenger, as some might put it. But that would be oversimplifying things. He considered himself more as an opportunist. 

Before leaving the school, he had flipped a coin to determine which course of action he should take. If the coin came up heads, he would join with Malfoy and the other Slytherins and find a way to escape the island. 

The coin came up tails, and so he would play to win. But if he were to win, he needed something more than a machete or garrote. All of the guns that had previously fired were wasted on his classmates. He knew that none of them had what it took to win. They were all too blinded by their emotions. 

He never could quite understand the whole concept behind emotions. On an intellectual level, he knew that he was different from others, because they felt things and he didn't. But he got along just fine without feeling anything, while those around him often times were unable to do much of anything because their emotions got in the way. So even if he could feel such a thing as jealousy, he wouldn't be the least bit envious of them. Emotions just got in the way. 

He consulted his watch and map. He would most likely encounter students in the forest, but those who had guns were probably lurking about as well. It might be a good idea to avoid them for now. Even though venturing out in the open had its risks, he was unlikely to come across anyone else, so long as he stayed far away enough from a place where students could hide. 

After flipping a coin to decide on which way to go, he head north to the coast. 

**18 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 10:43 p.m.**   
Millicent Bulstrode (Girl 5, Slytherin) sat atop a boulder at the northern most point of the island. She tried her best to ignore the cold wind blowing her way from the sea, but it wasn't very easy. Not when it kept blowing her hair all over her face, at least. She hated it when her hair got in her face. An unfortunate consequence of having long hair, she supposed. Still, it was better than having short hair. She had short hair as a child, and it really didn't flatter her all that well. 

Not that long hair flattered her much, either. She wasn't a pretty girl, and she knew it. She had hoped that she'd grow into her features more as she grew up, but to no avail. It didn't do much good to dwell on it, though. She couldn't change how she looked, especially now. 

She supposed that she could have met up with the other Slytherins after she had left the school. Malfoy had sent out a note to them asking them to meet him here. She chose not to go. She knew enough about him to know that he was a no good creep. He'd probably turn on all of them once they had gathered. He was dead now, though. Maybe some of the others had shown up and his plan to turn on them failed. It didn't really matter. 

She was alone in this. In the end, she was always alone. It was probably her own fault, though. After being sorted into Slytherin, she had tried to fit in with the 'cool' crowd of her housemates. Unfortunately, they never really accepted her as one of them, and she ended up alienating the students from the other houses. So she hung on to the peripheral. 

Half of her housemates were dead now. Most of them from said 'cool' crowd. She had been surprised to find that she didn't care much. 

She should probably move. The wind was being rather annoying, and she didn't have anything to tie her hair back with. She supposed she could wrap her hair around the ice pick she had as a weapon, and pin it back that way, but then she wouldn't have a weapon in easy range if she had to defend herself. Not like an ice pick was much of a weapon. Better than nothing, though. 

In the distance, she could see someone heading her way. They were still rather far away, though, so she wasn't too concerned. Or maybe it was just that she had already accepted that she was going to die here, and didn't really care anymore. Still, she wouldn't die without putting up some semblance of a fight. The approaching figure looked rather smallish. Or at least small enough that she would have no problem overpowering him if it came down to hand to hand combat. If he had a gun, she might be in trouble, but she was beyond the point of caring anymore. 

She gripped the ice pick in her hand as he came closer. She wondered if he saw her or not. If he did, then he most likely didn't have a gun, as he would have shot her by now. Or maybe he just wanted to be a little closer so he would have a better aim. Whatever. 

She sat there, watching the boy approach. As he drew nearer, she was able to see that he carried some sort of bladed object in his hand, although she couldn't quite make out his face yet. No matter. Although she hated to underestimate him, she couldn't help but feel that he must be rather stupid if he planned on attacking her with just that. It wasn't even long enough a blade that he could keep any real semblance of distance between them. There were only two boys in the class who she would have difficulty facing in a fight, and one of them was dead. And she could admit with the utmost confidence that the boy approaching was not Vincent Crabbe (Boy 4, Slytherin), unless he had inexplicably lost a lot of weight in the past 24 hours. 

The minutes ticked past. The boy walked closer. Millicent continued to watch him. There was no doubt that he knew she was there, as the two made eye contact. She recognized him as Theodore Nott, one of her housemates. Like her, he was a loner, but he was a loner due to choice. She didn't trust him. He was too cold and calculating. 

He stopped a few feet away from her, looking up at her. Neither of them said anything. Millicent brushed back some of the hair the wind had blown into her face. 

Theodore glanced to the ice pick in Millicent's hand, then back up to her face. "You would win in a fight," he commented after a few tense moments. "It would be pointless for me to try and overpower you." 

Millicent nodded. "You're welcome to try. You might even win." 

He sized her up. "You're not playing." 

"Nope." She slid off of the boulder, staring him in the eye. "Doesn't mean I'm going down without a fight, though." 

He nodded, and they stood there, the only sound being made by the wind blowing. He took something small out of his pocket and tossed it in the air, catching it in his hand. Nott studied it for a few seconds, then put it back into his pocket and looked back to her. 

"I'm playing to win," he said calmly. "I've already killed two of us." He took a step back, holding his machete in a battle ready position. "Third one's a charm." 

Millicent's jaw clenched as she readied herself for combat. "A real charm." 

She ducked as he swung the machete at her, hitting the boulder where her head had been. For someone of her size, she was surprisingly nimble on her feet. When she had been younger, she had an interest in dance. All of the practice she had paid off with her being surprisingly graceful when she wanted to be. Now was one of those times. She ducked again as the machete swung her way. 

She didn't bother to lunge for him yet with her ice pick. He was faster than she was, and would move out of the way before she could make contact. She had to wait to get behind him. 

She continued to dodge as he would swing the machete. It took less energy for her to get out of the way than it did for him to attack. He would either grow frustrated and careless, or end up tiring himself out. He might even figure out what she was doing, and expend even more energy trying to out dance her. That's all it was, really. A dance to the death. 

She parried the machete with her ice pick, and Nott jumped back. "You're not even fighting back," he said. 

Millicent smiled. "What makes you think this is a fight?" 

He and swung at her again. She dodged gracefully, and ended up with her back to the boulder. 

"What do you think this is? A dance?" He prepared to swing. 

Using the boulder as a launchpad, she pivoted around him, stabbing the ice pick under his chin as she got behind him. "Haven't you figured it out? That's all we've ever done." 

Nott dropped the machete as the ice pick dug deeper into his throat. He fell to his knees, the girl bending down with him as he fell. 

With her free hand, Millicent picked up the fallen machete, making sure to keep it out of the boy's reach. "Unfortunately," she whispered in his ear, "a dancer needs a heart to make a truly spectacular performance." 

She removed the ice pick from the boy's throat, allowing him to fall completely to the ground. 

Picking up her pack from its position near the boulder, she cast one last look over her shoulder, then walked off to find a more peaceful place to get lost in her thoughts. 

**17 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 11:17 p.m.**   
Blaise stood guard outside the store, his face somber as he took a drag off of his cigarette. He thought it best to leave Hermione undisturbed inside. He had never been very good at consoling others, and didn't want to upset her any more by saying something stupid or callous. 

_"For someone who knows so much, you're remarkably dense when it comes to how people feel!" Cynthia shouted at him. _

He raised his hands defensively as their uncle watched on amusedly. "Hey, I'm just saying." 

She continued to glare at him. "She felt bad enough, without you having to rub it in her face." 

He shrugged. "Well, it's true. She should have watched her kid better. Kid that age doesn't know better. That's what Mama's for." 

Cynthia's eyes darkened. "You just don't get it, do you?" She sighed and shoved past him. "Why even bother?" She turned to face him. "You help these people, but you don't even know why you help them, do you?" 

Blaise shrugged as he leaned against the wall. "It's the right thing to do, isn't it?" 

She shook her head and walked away. "You really don't get it." 

He sighed, letting out a puff of smoke. 

_"It's because we care."_

He glanced behind him at the closed door. He wished that he could help her, but wasn't quite sure how he could. There was nothing he could say that would make the pain she felt fade away. 

He looked out to the forest, hoping that Harry escaped safely as well. 

_"That's the heart of it, really. It's all because we care."_

**17 students remaining**


	16. Determination

**September 2, 1996 -- 11:54 p.m.**   
Kevin Entwhistle (Boy 5, Ravenclaw) wished that he had a mint of some kind to get the foul taste of gasoline out of his mouth. After carefully searching through the garages in the residential section for a container of gas, he came to the realization that the only way to get the needed gasoline was to siphon it out of a car. He glared at Stephen Cornfoot (Boy 3, Ravenclaw), who was chuckling softly at him. 

Kevin shrugged, and crossed 'gasoline' off of his list. His plan was rather desperate, and perhaps not very carefully thought out, but if it worked, they would all be home free. He had thought that finding rope long enough would be a problem, but he had found some stashed away in one of the garages rather early on. Now they had all the things they needed. 

He picked up the canister of gasoline he had just filled, and set it down with the other items he had gathered earlier. Stephen continued to watch him, staying silent. 

Kevin's Aunt Lorelei had belonged to an anti-government resistance group years ago. Before she died, she had imparted as much knowledge as she could to her young nephew, just in case he might need it. Amongst that knowledge were a few good recipes. 

He wasn't a fool, though. He knew that there were probably ways for Montgomery and his goons to listen in on what they were saying. Government agents often had a tendency to intrude upon people's privacy like that. 

He turned to Stephen and gave him the thumbs up. 

He opened the laptop he had found in one of the houses. If it weren't for the fact that the phone lines were down, he might have hacked into the school's computer system and uploaded a particularly nasty virus. But as it were, the laptop was still good for communicating silently. 

His fingers glided over the keyboard. Stephen walked over to see what Kevin had written. 

'_It's time. Let's bake us a cake._' 

**17 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 12:04 a.m.**   
Vincent Crabbe (Boy 4, Slytherin) finished marking down the forbidden zones that had just been announced. He was safe for now. 

Despite the fact that he was sick and tired of hiding out in the damn forest, he had to admit that it was safer there than inside one of the buildings. Those that were playing would likely scour the buildings for people hiding out. He knew he would, if he were playing. Fish in a barrel. 

He had carefully chosen his hiding spot to be as close to the school as possible, while staying just out of the forbidden zone. It was rather difficult to calibrate his exact position in relation to the zone, but he was pretty satisfied that nobody would bother him where he was. The others would likely be staying as far away from the forbidden zones as possible. Which meant that so long as he was careful, the chances of him encountering anyone were slim to none. 

Granted, camping so close to a forbidden zone meant that he had fewer paths of escape to choose from in case he did encounter someone, but that also meant that no one could sneak up behind him so long as he kept his back to the school. 

"Karma..." he whispered. 

He had never really given much thought to the metaphysical, or to what it meant to die. He wondered if there was an afterlife, where the lost would be reunited with one another, and all would be well. What sort of afterlife would await him? 

He glanced down at the gun he held in his hand. He wasn't so sure that he wanted to live anymore, if it meant he had to kill someone in order to do so. It would just be pointless. All of the bloodshed had been pointless. 

He wondered. If he hadn't parted ways with Ron, might he still be alive? When his name had been announced as one of the dead, it had taken him by surprise. Even though they had always been adversaries back at school, he couldn't help but feel saddened. 

_"How well do any of us really know each other?"_

**17 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 2 -- 12:45 a.m.**   
Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) glanced at his watch nervously. He really didn't want to wake up Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor), but they had to move. The zone they were in, H-4, would be forbidden in 15 minutes. As it was, they were already cutting it far too close to his liking. 

Taking a breath to gather forth his resolve, he walked into the store, crossing over to Hermione, who still held her friend's lifeless body. Blaise wondered for a moment what the Ministry did with the dead, but quickly shook such thoughts out of his head. 

He placed a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake. "Hey..." 

She stirred, then turned to face him. "What is it?" 

Blaise pointed to his watch. "Zone turns forbidden in 15." 

Hermione sighed and slowly stood up, gently laying her friend on the floor. "Has Harry come yet?" 

Blaise shook his head. "He hasn't been announced, though." 

Hermione's eyes widened. "How will we find him? I don't..." Fresh tears formed in her eyes. "I don't want to find him like--" 

Blaise put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't work yourself up again. You'll make yourself sick again. We'll think of something." 

She nodded, trying to hold back her tears. 

Blaise led her outside, and they went back into the forest, neither of them saying anything. 

**17 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 1:12 a.m.**   
He probably could have arrived as his destination a lot sooner, but Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) had chosen to take the long way around the island. He had hoped that he might run into someone hiding out in the forest, and possibly even part of the trio that had eluded him earlier. But that was not to be, apparently. He'd find them later, though. 

He had to be careful in the residential section. It would do no good for him to stumble into the forbidden H-6 (which was where the bulk of the houses were located). He decided to start checking the houses in H-7 first, and then work his way around to the rest. It was a pity that the tracker was gone, but there was no point of dwelling on things beyond his control. 

He had no fear of being shot at, as he opened the door to one of the houses and went inside. He had already been shot in the gut, but the bulletproof vest he wore saved his life. He probably shouldn't rely upon it so much, as if he were shot somewhere the vest didn't cover, then he might very well die. 

He frowned. The house appeared to be empty. He should have paid more attention to the locations of hiding students when the tracker still worked. He carefully checked from room to room, making certain that the house was indeed empty. 

Coming to that conclusion, he left the house, and moved on to the next. Once again, that house was empty. 

After checking all of the houses in H-7, he frowned and moved north, to check the houses there. Just as the houses before had been empty, so too were the ones he checked. And as he explored the rest of the houses in G-6, he found that those too were empty. 

Rather frustrating, really, but he couldn't blame them for not sticking around. Staying in one place for too long was dangerous. Particularly since he had been rather noisy in his attack a few hours ago. 

He grimaced. Nothing more he could do except for move on, and hope that he got lucky. 

**17 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 1:39 a.m.**   
"I wonder what happens to the winner," Hermione said softly as they walked onwards. Blaise turned to her. She looked at him. "Do you know?" 

Blaise paused, then took out a cigarette. "From what I've heard about previous winners, they usually end up repeating a year. Sometimes they're transferred. Depends on how messed up they are at the end." He lit the cigarette, and let out a puff of smoke. 

Hermione paused briefly. "Messed up?" 

He nodded slowly. "Let's say for instance that you won. You think you wouldn't be messed up by that? Most winners end up missing most of the year because they're stuck in a mental ward somewhere recovering." 

Hermione nodded, and they fell silent for about a minute. "I wonder... Why do you think Neville is doing all these horrible things?" 

Blaise shrugged. "Fear, most likely. Probably lost himself to the game or something." He exhaled some smoke, then looked at her. "Hey. Don't dwell. You'll have all the time to do that once you get out of here." 

Hermione laughed bitterly. "I doubt that I will. I just... I don't think I could..." She shook her head and stared off into the distance. 

Blaise stopped in his tracks. "Hey. Enough of that. You'll live." 

Hermione stopped and turned around to him. "How can you be so sure? And even if..." She looked to the ground, trying to hold back the tears that were forming once again. "Even if... It wouldn't be the same." She looked back up to him. "What would be the point if I just lost everyone I cared about?" 

Blaise said nothing. There wasn't really anything he could say. 

Hermione leaned against a tree for support. "I always thought..." She tried to hold back the tears that were building up. "That when... when we left school... We'd have one big wild party. I'd disapprove as the boys got a little too rowdy and drunk, but decide that just for one night, I might as well join in... Later, when we all had jobs, we'd hang around together, complaining about all the crap we had to deal with at work." She looked back to him, tears falling. "But even if I live, that won't happen, will it? Because only one can survive, right?" 

Blaise looked at the ground. After a brief pause, he looked back up. "There are... flaws in the system." He studied her face. "You're smart, right? I'm sure you can even think of what those flaws might be." 

She looked at him, confused. That had absolutely nothing to do with what she had just said. A few seconds passed, then Blaise pointed to his collar, not saying anything. Comprehension dawned on Hermione's face. There was something to the collars. Before she could say anything, though, Blaise put his finger in front of his lips, signaling her to keep silent. She nodded. 

He smiled slightly. "Me, I always wanted to work with dragons. Doubt there are any on this island, though." He took out a piece of paper from his pack, along with a pencil. The moonlight reflected off of the paper, and Hermione realized it was the 'I will kill' list. Before she could say anything, Blaise wrote something on the paper. 

"Why dragons, though?" she asked as he was writing. She had a feeling that there was some sort of code in what he had said. 

Blaise handed her the paper. "I've just always found them to be rather fascinating, I guess. That's why I took Care of Magical Creatures." 

It was hard to see what he wrote, but she could just barely make it out. '_The Dragons are a resistance group at the reservation in Romania. A number of past survivors there. They know lots of useful stuff. Don't speak of it out loud, though._' 

Hermione nodded and handed him the paper back. "And here I thought it was because it was an 'easy' class." 

Blaise shrugged as he took a drag of his cigarette. "That too." He put the paper back into his pack. "So... Shall we try to find Harry?" 

Hermione blinked at the abrupt change of subject, then nodded. "How? Just wander blindly around the island?" 

He shook his head. "No. We call out to him." 

She looked at him in disbelief. "But if we call out to him, someone else might come! It would be suicide!" 

He chuckled and shook his head. "If we speak, yes. Can you caw like a crow? Or hoot like an owl?" 

Hermione tilted her head. "Not realistically..." 

He just smiled mysteriously. "Even better." 

**17 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 1:58 a.m.**   
Stephen watched as his friend surveyed the area. He wished that he could be of more help, but knew that he would just be in the way if he tried. He had very little experience with the muggle world, and was rather confused by Kevin's reference to 'baking a cake'. When he had given a questioning look, the other boy explained via the laptop that it meant they were building a bomb. Stephen had heard of bombs, and had a general idea of what they did, but never seen one, and had no idea how exactly they worked. So all he could do was watch. 

They were currently gathered near the edge of F-7. Due to the fact that there was nothing of any real elevation around the school, they had to tie one end of the rope to the lowest point possible at one end, and the highest point possible at the other. Stephen still had no idea how Kevin's plan was going to work, but he would go along with it anyway. They had nothing to lose, really, and everything to gain. 

Since there were tall trees in F-5 that the high point could be tied to, they chose this section for the base. Getting the rope over the school might be rather difficult, but since Kevin believed that they would manage, Stephen had no real reason to doubt him. 

"Holy crap!" Kevin exclaimed. 

Stephen -- who had been holding the laptop -- started. He hadn't expected the other boy to speak. He sat the laptop on the ground and walked over to the well where his friend was, and looked down to where the other boy was shining his flashlight. His eyes widened. "Is that a girl down there?!" 

Kevin nodded. "It looks that way. Damn..." 

Stephen shivered. "People are playing..." he whispered to himself. 

Kevin looked at him. "I thought you knew that. More deaths are announced with every announcement." 

"Yeah, but this is the first time I really saw a dead body. Unless you count what happened back at the school." 

Kevin nodded, then turned away from the well. "Moving on." He walked to the tree where he had set up base, and tied one end of the rope to the base of the tree. 

Stephen followed him, picking up the laptop. "Now what?" He covered his mouth as he realized he said that out loud. He had forgotten that they weren't supposed to speak. 

Kevin shrugged, then took the laptop. '_Now we implement Phase Two._' 

**17 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 2:22 a.m.**   
Vincent Crabbe decided that it was time to move. As he had been keeping his vigil, he saw a trail of what appeared to be balloons rise in the air just a little bit south of the school. There was someone close by, and he didn't want to be loitering around when they appeared. A pity, really. He had gotten rather comfortable. 

He slowly stood up, holding onto a tree as he did so to keep his balance. He had no idea where he was going to go, but somewhere far away sounded good. Maybe the northwest corner of B-4. He doubted that very many people would want to be out in the open like that. He doubted that he really wanted to, as a matter of fact, but it was better than being found by someone whose intentions were thus far unknown. 

Collecting his things, he set off for his journey, making sure to keep as quiet as possible. If there were people lurking about -- particularly Neville, the shooter -- he wanted to avoid them. Of those classmates who were left, he wasn't sure if he trusted any of them. 

That was a thought that nearly froze him in his tracks. All this time, he had tried to keep his wits about him, not giving in to fear, and now he was starting to grow paranoid. Was everyone else paranoid, too? Maybe that's why there was so much death and bloodshed. People turned on one another, too scared to think about anything but their mistrust and paranoia. 

He shook his head as he walked on, trying to get such thoughts out of his head. He wouldn't allow himself to give in. He was scared, yes, but he couldn't give in to that fear. If he did, he would panic, and end up losing. Whether he would lose his life, or just lose himself to the game, he wasn't sure. He just knew he couldn't lose. 

"I won't give up," he whispered to himself as he walked onwards. 

**17 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 2:30 a.m.**   
For what must have been the hundredth time since she had started her shift, Sally-Anne Perks (Girl 18, Hufflepuff) looked at her watch. In three hours and thirty minutes exactly the new batch of forbidden zones would be announced, along with any death notices. That thought made her shudder slightly, but she knew that she was safe. They all were. Looking back to her watch, she realized that her shift would be ending in half an hour. But if the others were still tending to their patient inside, then she might have to stay out a little bit longer. 

She sighed, both out of frustration and feelings of utter uselessness. If only she had some basic medical knowledge, she might be indoors with the others, and one of them would be stuck out here, holding the Uzi. 

She hated guns. They scared her. But as the Uzi was the best weapon they had, whoever was on the guard shift had no choice but to hold onto it, and possibly even use it if need be. No matter what happened, or who came by, she didn't want to kill anyone. Not even hurt anyone. She told the others that, but they hadn't relented. Everyone had to take their turn as a guard. That, and they told her that it was doubtful that she would have to use it on anyone anyway. 

She hoped that was true. She couldn't even begin to imagine how horrible she would feel if she had to use it. It was hard enough to stay calm without adding such a feeling to the mix. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was working herself up all over again. She turned around to face the door as it opened. "Sadie..." 

Sadie Roper (Girl 19, Slytherin) looked at her as she walked over. "We were worried. You didn't look too good earlier." 

Sally-Anne shook her head. "I'm fine. How's our patient?" 

Sadie sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "Not well. Severe injuries are never good. I'm not liking the chance of survival there." 

Sally-Anne nodded. "You guys are good nurses, though. Don't give up." 

Sadie smiled slightly. "Always the optimist, eh?" She looked up at the moon shining overhead. "Only time will tell, though." 

They stood there silently for a few minutes, then Sally-Anne turned to look at the other girl. "If our patient wakes up... I mean when... Uh... Should we tell... About... Uh..." She let her voice trail off, not sure on how to phrase her question. 

Sadie paused, then shook her head. "Not my call, but I would recommend against anything that would upset someone who's been hurt that badly. But as I said, it's not my call. If one of the others decides to say something, that's their call, not mine." 

Sally-Anne nodded. "It's too bad, though..." 

"Yeah..." Sadie stood up straight and opened the door. "I'm going back in. Do you want me to bring you anything?" 

Sally-Anne shook her head. "I'm fine, thanks." 

The door silently closed, and Sally-Anne went back to her guard duty, watching out for anything that moved. She recognized on some level that the gun she held should make her feel safe, but instead it just made her feel cold and empty inside. How much longer were they going to have to live like this? How much longer were any of them going to live, period? 

"Only time will tell," she whispered, letting the wind carry away her voice over the sea. 

**17 students remaining**


	17. The Bomb

**September 3, 1996 -- 2:37 a.m.**   
Stephen Cornfoot (Boy 3, Ravenclaw) had a very bad feeling about his friend's plan. Not only wasn't he sure on whether the plan would work or not, but he thought that they were far too conspicuous, trailing the rope behind them the way they were. Anyone looking their way could easily see the rope floating behind them, supported by the Helium-filled garbage bags (that was what Kevin said they were, at least). Stephen just knew that they were going to be attacked. He was surprised that they hadn't been already, to be bluntly honest. 

He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his shaky nerves. Although he wasn't entirely convinced yet, the same thoughts kept running through his mind. After the gunfight earlier in the evening, he hadn't heard any guns fired since. He held on to the tenuous hope that maybe the shooter who had terrorized everyone before was dead. It wasn't very comforting, though. And only two people had been announced dead at midnight. Of course, the shooter might be dying, but not dead yet. They could be lying in a pool of their own blood, unable to move. That thought didn't comfort him much either. Maybe it was because he simply could not believe that someone out there was actually killing their classmates. Although some of them could be jerks at times, he just could not believe that someone who he had gone to school with for the past five years could kill someone. And there were probably multiple killers, too, to be perfectly honest. 

He didn't even realize he was shaking until Kevin Entwhistle (Boy 5, Ravenclaw) put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll get out of here. We all will," he said. 

Stephen nodded, although he wasn't entirely convinced. They were traveling out in the open, where it wasn't safe. They had to, so that the rope wouldn't get caught in the trees. Although Kevin had a gun that he could protect them with, it was still rather dangerous. Stephen himself only had a pocketknife as his weapon. Not much good in a fight, really. 

They needed to move quickly, before the killings started up again. It wouldn't do much good for them to blow up the school if they were the last ones left. Taking another deep breath to calm himself, Stephen followed, carrying the packs and laptop with him. 

**17 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 2:41 a.m.**   
Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) couldn't help but marvel at some people's stupidity. It had been bad enough that the Patil twins had moronically declared their positions all over the island a little over twelve hours ago, but now someone else was doing the same damn thing, albeit a little more quietly. It made no sense. Did they think that they would go unnoticed? 

He had been wandering around aimlessly when he noticed the rope suspended by balloons in the sky. Well, he supposed they weren't really balloons, but close enough. Shaking his head, he decided he might as well follow. 

And so he trailed the two figures from a distance. He thought about just opening fire on them, but was actually rather intrigued by their idiocy. He figured he might as well see what they were up to. Maybe see if they even realized how foolish they were. And he was certain that others would be attracted to the scene. Whether it would be to warn them, or to kill them, he didn't really care. In either case, it just made his job easier. 

**17 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 2:45 a.m.**   
Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) looked at his watch. It wouldn't take long now for them to arrive at their new destination. He wanted to get back to where they had camped out by the lookout earlier, because there was always the possibility that Harry would think to look for them there since the store was in a forbidden zone now. Granted, it was possible that someone else had commandeered their campsite, but they would deal with that once they got there. 

He glanced at Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor). Although she still looked upset -- he couldn't blame her -- there was also a quiet determination about her. Out of the corner of his eye, toward the general direction of the school, he could see something that just seemed... off. 

"Son of a bitch--" He stopped, turning to that direction. It was difficult to see what exactly it was, due to the trees, but he was able to see that there was definitely something that did not belong in the sky. 

Hermione stopped as well, following his gaze. "Balloons?" 

He nodded. "Someone's going to get themselves killed." 

She turned to him. "We have to warn them, then! We can't just sit here!" 

Blaise gave her a tired look and sighed. "It would take far too long to get there, and by the time we did, they'd be dead. And before you ask, a warning shot would do no good from here, either. We're too far away. They'd probably just think someone had been found and killed or something." He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. "Dammit." 

Hermione sighed dejectedly. "It's not fair..." She let her voice trail off as she let her thoughts wander. Her eyes widened and she turned to Blaise. "What if it's Harry, trying to contact us? We should go!" 

Blaise shook his head. "I doubt he'd be that stupid. Go if you want, but I'm not." He watched as she bit her lip, seemingly debating on what to do. She made a move as if to go, but before she had moved even a half step, she stopped and sighed. 

Hermione sulked, looking frustrated. "It's still not fair..." 

"Life never is." 

Just as they were about to move on, though, the bushes began rustling. Blaise raised the shotgun, aiming it in the general direction as a figure stepped out. 

Vincent Crabbe (Boy 4, Slytherin) froze as he saw them. He glanced once at Hermione, then let his gaze fall upon the shotgun aimed toward him. 

"We're not playing," Blaise said as he kept his shotgun trained on the other boy. "But I'll shoot you if you try anything." 

Crabbe nodded slowly. "I'm not playing, either." 

Blaise lowered the shotgun, but kept his finger near the trigger. "So we understand each other. Good. Harry said you weren't playing." 

"You saw him?" Crabbe asked. "When?" 

"Most of the day," Hermione answered. "Until Neville attacked us and we split up." 

Crabbe nodded. "So that must have been you in the gunfight, right?" They nodded. "I hope Harry's alright." 

"Me too," Blaise said. "You headed anywhere in particular?" 

Crabbe shook his head. "Not really. I might as well try to find Millicent, though. I think Neville's trying to hunt us Slytherins down." 

"Eh?" Hermione looked at him. "What makes you say that?" 

He hesitated, then looked to the ground. "I saw Ron earlier in the afternoon. He told me." He looked back up at them. "You don't think Neville..." 

Hermione shook her head. "Hannah killed him." Her face hardened. "And if I find her..." 

"I'm sorry." He paused. "Maybe if we hadn't parted ways, he might still be alive..." 

Blaise shook his head. "Or else you would be dead, too." The others looked to him. "It doesn't do any good to dwell on 'what ifs'. You have to concern yourself more with the here and now, and look to the future as well. Concentrate on keeping alive. Won't do you much good to slip into melancholy." 

"Yeah..." Crabbe looked back toward the school. "We can't have been the only ones to notice, right?" He turned back to them. "I'm getting as far away as possible. Stay alive." 

Blaise stopped him as he turned to leave. "Hey, wait." He glanced at Hermione, then back to the leaving boy. "If you feel like joining us later, we should come up with a way to contact one another. We were going to try to contact Harry with bird calls." 

Crabbe quirked an eyebrow. "Bird calls?" 

Blaise nodded. "Like hooting like an owl at night, and cawing like a crow during the day. Not sure how well it'll work, but..." He shrugged. 

Crabbe nodded. "Better than nothing." He looked toward the school. "You might want to get as far away as you can, too. I'm getting a real bad feeling." He waved once at them, then continued his journey north. 

Hermione looked to Blaise. "You trust him?" 

Blaise shrugged. "He's a decent enough guy, once you get to know him. Not sure I completely trust him, but trust is hard earned. I guess I just have to believe that he'll do right in the end." He paused. "Or maybe I'm just getting really tired or something. Regardless, we must move on." He looked toward the school. "Because I'm sure that something's gonna happen, and I don't want to be too close when it does." 

And so they journeyed on. 

**17 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 2:53 a.m.**   
Kevin handed the Stephen the gun as he looked up at the tree he would be climbing. It was a lot taller than he thought it would be, but that would work out to their advantage, as a tall tree was just what he needed. It wouldn't be very easy to climb, however. Some of the branches were a mighty distance from one another, and he would have to carry the rope and bomb up with him. To make matters worse, it was starting to rain. That would make climbing all the more dangerous. 

Even so, they couldn't wait until the rain cleared. They needed the cover of night, and it might continue to rain all throughout the day as well. And they had to implement their plan before any more students died. Too many lives had been lost already. 

It was now or never. 

_"So... Abigail--" _

"Just Abby." 

"Yeah. Abby. So, uh... I suppose you're here to talk me out of carrying on the fight and all, right? Made a promise and all? 

The older woman chuckled. "On the contrary." She leaned against the tree she was standing in front of and sighed. "I've never liked funerals. Buried too many good friends." 

The funeral for Kevin's Aunt Lorelei had ended, and now he found himself off to the side talking to one of his Aunt's friends. His parents were off socializing with some of the other mourners, although truth be told, few people actually looked very sad about Lorelei's passing. Kevin knew that his mother wasn't very broken up over her little sister's death. She had never really approved of Lorelei's decisions in life. And although he knew better, most everyone else believed the line that Lorelei's death had been a suicide. 

"How lame..." he said softly, looking towards the other funeral goers. 

"I agree." Abby took out a silver box from the inside pocket of the jacket she was wearing. It looked like it was one of those boxes some people used to put cigarettes into. Kevin never really could quite understand why people did that, but he had never been a smoker, so didn't think of it too much. 

Abby put a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "Hey," she said, handing him a small silver tube she had taken out of the box. "Lori... She wanted you to have this..." 

Kevin quirked an eyebrow. "You know she always hated being called Lori." He looked down at the object in his hand. "What is this?" 

Abby smiled. "She never minded when I called her that." She shrugged, then her face turned more serious. "I'm not sure. She said you'd figure it out on your own if you had paid attention to all the things she taught you." She stood up straight. "Goodbye, Kevin. Do us proud." 

He looked back up to her. "Wait! Are you sure? I mean... Maybe you should hold on to this." 

Abby shook her head. "I've done my part." She glanced over to Kevin's parents, who were laughing with another couple in the distance. "Fighting wasn't the only thing they disapproved of, you know." She turned away, slowly walking to her car in the parking lot. "Farewell." 

Kevin watched her leave as various thoughts whirled in his mind. 

Kevin had already removed the contents of his pack and placed them into Ste phen's so that he could put the bomb inside. He tied the end of the rope to the pack, then slung the pack across his back. He looked to his friend and nodded, then turned his gaze to the tree again. Biting his lip, he gathered his resolve and grabbed onto one of the branches, hoisting himself up. Due to the slickness caused by the rain, he almost lost his balance. He was able to hold on, though. 

Slowly, he began making progress. He didn't even bother to look down to see how high he had gotten. Climbing trees had never been one of his strong points, and he didn't want to do anything that might make him fall. 

Just as he was reaching for the next branch, gunshots fired below him, nearly startling him out of the tree. He was able to quickly regain his footing, and wrapped his arms as best as he could around the tree so he could look down. 

He hadn't made as much progress as he thought he had. He was only about 15 or 20 feet off the ground. Nowhere near as much progress as he would have liked. However, the most distressing thing right now was the guns being fired below him. "Stephen..." 

To his credit, Stephen wasn't nearly as bad with the gun as he thought he'd be. But the other boy... The one with the horrible gun... 

"No!" Kevin shouted as bullets tore through Stephen's body. His eyes widened as his friend fell to the ground, not moving. The shooter looked up to him, and he froze. Kevin knew that there was no escape. He was sure to be shot before he had the chance to get down and get back the gun. He had no weapon... 

The bomb! He didn't want to use it yet, but there might not be much of a choice. Things were getting really ugly. Quickly but carefully, he slung the pack in front of him. He could hear the rattling of the machine gun fire from below him, and could feel bullets tear through him, but he gritted his teeth, determined to maintain his footing and focus on the task at hand. 

'_You see this coming, Aunt Lorelei?_' he thought as he took out a small tube from his pocket, removing the top of it. '_Can't imagine how much uglier things could get._' He clamped the tube to one of the wires protruding from the bomb. He grimaced as more bullets tore through him, then pressed the exposed button on top of the tube. Releasing his hold on the pack, he let it drop to the ground. If he was going to die, he was going to take the shooter with him. 

Neville stopped shooting just as soon as he saw the pack drop from the tree. Whatever the boys had been doing, it wasn't anything good. He doubted that they were flying balloons just for the hell of it. And the pack had something to do with it. His instincts told him to get the hell away from it as it descended, and he wasn't about to argue. 

Kevin's eyes widened as he saw the shooter begin to run away. "No..." He closed his eyes in anticipation of the blast to come. '_How lame, huh Aunt?_' 

He wasn't sure if he would ever regain his hearing as his eardrums burst and he flew through the air, propelled by a shock wave. He was sure that everyone on the island could see, hear, or feel the blast. Yes, it would have blown up the school if given the chance. He just hoped it blew up the shooter. 

He nearly blacked out with pain as his flight was interrupted with him being thrown against a tree, and then falling to the ground. Groaning, he tried to get up so he could crawl away, but found that his limbs weren't responding in the least. "No..." He quickly realized that his back must have been broken when he slammed against the tree. 

He opened his eyes when he felt a strange heat emitted from nearby. Even though he couldn't properly turn his head to see, out of the corner of his eye he saw that the explosion set some of the trees on fire. He might have let out a stream of curse words, but then he saw a figure emerge from the fire. A rather angry-looking figure with a gun. 

Damn... 

"How... lame..." He barely felt the pain as his body was once more perforated with bullets, and then he felt nothing at all. 

Neville looked down at the still boy in front of him, holding the still smoking gun. He had just barely been able to get away from the blast in time, although he was bleeding in a few places where the shrapnel had hit. He was lucky he hadn't lost an eye as a piece of metal embedded itself only centimeters from his left eye. With one hand, he carefully removed the fragment, and threw it onto the corpse in front of him. He didn't bother to say anything as he turned away to collect the gun the other boy had dropped. 

**15 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 2:58 a.m.**   
As soon as he had seen the flash of light coming from the direction of the school, Blaise had quickly pulled Hermione down to the ground with him, and covered his ears. As soon as they heard the gunshots, they had started running as fast as they could away from the school, and it was a good thing they did. Even from where they were, they could feel the ground shake, and hear a deafening explosion coming from that direction. 

Hermione whimpered as debris flew over their heads. They stayed down there on the ground for a few minutes, letting the debris fly overhead. When it appeared as thought it was safe to stand up again, they got up. "What was that?" Hermione asked as she slowly stood up, brushing leaves and twigs off of her. 

Blaise shook his head. "Dunno. Want me to check it out or--" His voice stopped as he looked toward the school. "Shit. We need to get out of here." He pointed, and Hermione turned around. 

Her eyes widened as she saw that some of the trees in the distance were on fire. "The whole forest might burn up!" she whispered. 

Blaise nodded. "Yeah. We need to hightail it to the coast. I hate going out in the open like this, but it's better than burning up in the forest." 

"Yeah... Won't the rain put out the fire some?" 

Blaise shook his head. "Might slow it down, but I doubt it'll stop it completely. Hurry!" 

Before Hermione could protest, he grabbed her hand and started running north, leading her behind him. As soon as she had regained her bearings and ran alongside him on her own, he let go of her hand. 

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked as she ran. 

"The coast," Blaise said as he breathed raggedly. He wasn't the best runner in the world, due to a lack of stamina. "Maybe you're right. I should quit smoking." 

"Or quit running," Hermione teased. 

They continued to run, although Hermione had to slow down her pace considerably to match Blaise's dwindling speed. Eventually, before they came to the edge of the forest, he stopped completely. Sensing that he was no longer running alongside her, she turned around, then ran back to him. 

He smiled weakly at her. "After all this is over, I'm quitting." 

Hermione smiled, then patted him on the head like one would a dog. "Good boy." 

He mock growled at her, then stood up straight, trying to hold his breath. He held up a hand at her. "Did you hear that?" 

Hermione looked in the direction he was facing. "Hear what?" 

He shushed her, then gestured towards a pair of trees. There was a figure standing between them. He raised his shotgun, although he doubted that he could hold it very steady. "We know you're there," he called to the figure. "Come out with your hands where I can see them!" 

Slowly, the figure emerged, silhouetted by the moon in the background. 

"I'm not playing," a female voice called back. Blaise lowered the shotgun slightly. "I just... I'm scared..." 

As she walked closer, hands raised in the air, she moved slightly to the side so she was no longer a silhouette. Hermione's eyes narrowed. 

"Please..." The other girl continued. "Don't shoot." 

Hermione's face darkened at the sight of Hannah Abbott (Girl 1, Hufflepuff). 

**15 students remaining**


	18. Vengeance

**September 3, 1996 -- 3:08 a.m.**   
Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) kept his shotgun trained on Hannah Abbott (Girl 1, Hufflepuff). Whether it bothered her or not, it was hard to tell. The moon was once again directly behind her, making her little more than a silhouette. 

"I've been so scared..." Hannah sobbed. "I'm so glad I found someone..." 

"Just like you found Ron?" The voice of Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) was harsh enough to make Hannah take a step back. 

"I... I never saw anyone!" Hannah shook her head, letting tears fall down her face. "Please listen to me!" 

"Lying bitch." 

Hannah brought her hands down, waving one in front of her as she slowly reached for her gun with the other. "I'm not lying! I never saw anyone!" 

"LYING BITCH!" 

Before Blaise could stop her, Hermione grabbed the shotgun out of his hands and fired at the other girl. Hannah fell to the ground, and Hermione pumped the shotgun. 

"Hermione, no!" Blaise shouted behind her as she advanced to the fallen girl. 

Even though she was hurt badly, Hannah still had the foresight to reach for her gun as quickly as possible once she hit the ground. Before she had the chance to aim it properly, however, she could feel the cold barrel of the shotgun push against her nose. 

Hermione kicked the gun out of Hannah's hand. "You killed him," she said softly. "And now you will die for your lies." She pulled the trigger of the shotgun. 

The gunshot echoed through the forest. The rain poured down over them as Hermione held the still smoking gun, and Blaise stood where he had been catching his breath. After a very long pause, Hermione dropped the shotgun and fell to her knees. 

"He's really gone..." she whispered in a small voice. "I thought... Maybe... That he might come back... But he's really gone..." She looked down at Hannah. "I killed her..." 

Blaise took a few steps toward her, not knowing what to say. 

Hermione turned to him. "This is really real." He stopped moving, and she continued, her voice shaking. "She killed Ron, and I killed her." Tears welled up in her eyes. "So why do I feel so empty inside?" 

Blaise held out a hand to help her up. "I don't know. Maybe vengeance is just supposed to feel that way." 

Hermione nodded, not bothering to wipe away her tears. "Maybe..." 

Neither of them spoke as he helped her stand. Before they left, he collected the fallen guns and Hannah's pack. He handed Hannah's gun to Hermione. 

"I wonder..." she spoke softly. "I wonder if this was even the weapon she was supplied with..." 

Blaise shook his head. "Don't dwell." 

Hermione nodded as she tucked the gun away, and the two made their way to coast once more. 

**14 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 3:12 a.m.**   
Vicky Frobisher (Girl 7, Gryffindor) sat up straight, eyes wide. The big explosion had awakened her 15 minutes ago. At first she had felt rather confused and disoriented as she struggled to remember where she was and why she was sleeping on the ground. But then as her mind woke up, she began to remember. 

She hadn't meant to fall asleep. No. She was supposed to stay awake, make sure that no one approached, and listen to the midnight announcement to mark off the new forbidden zones. 

She glanced at her watch in a panic. It was well after midnight. She had missed it. No no no... 

She touched the collar around her neck. The fact that she still lived proved that G-1 hadn't become forbidden at either 1 a.m. or 3 a.m. There was no guarantee about 5 a.m. however... 

She stood up, taking a few steps south, but then froze. What if she was trapped? What if H-1 or H-2 had become forbidden? The moment she walked into either, she would die. 

But if she stayed where she was, she would die. G-1 could become forbidden at 5 a.m. Or maybe later. Either way, she would die. 

She sank to the ground, sobbing hysterically. She had half a mind to turn the gun she held onto herself. If she was going to die, it might as well be on her terms, not because she got caught in a stupid forbidden zone. But as she stared at the gun, she realized that she couldn't bring herself to take her own life. 

She let out a scream of frustration, not really caring if anyone heard her or not. After all, if someone came to her, that would mean that the pathway was clear. Then she could shoot them and take their map. She was sure that everyone else had already marked the forbidden zones, so she could avoid them. 

"Come and get me, you bastards!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "You hear me? I'm in G-1! So come and get me!" 

Tears fell from her face onto the ground. If no one came, she might only have an hour and forty-five minutes left to live. Or maybe twenty-four hours. It was quite possible that there was only one student left besides her, and they might be prevented from reaching her to kill her. 

No. She doubted that there would be only one left by now. However many of them were still alive, she doubted that the numbers would have dwindled down that much in the past nine hours since she heard the last announcement. There were nineteen of them left back then. Still, if two students died each hour... 

She shook her head. She couldn't think like that. She had to hold on to the hope that someone had heard her, and would come to investigate. She wished that she had a megaphone, like that girl earlier had. Then people were bound to hear her. 

At this point of time, she would even welcome that awful shooter with open arms. And a bullet to the head, of course, but that would be purely in self-defense. 

Although the idea of shooting anyone else that came was tempting, she wasn't so sure that she could do it. After all, if they weren't playing and she really did shoot them, it wouldn't be self-defense, it would be murder. And although she and Mandy had done some pretty horrible things while working for Hannah, murder was where she drew the line. Burglary, extortion, prostitution, those were all well and good. Those didn't really hurt anyone. Not really. Sure, they'd occasionally ruined a few lives, but those people deserved it. They were perverts. But murder was taboo. 

She sat up straighter and shakily took out a cigarette. Maybe nicotine could help calm her nerves. She struggled with her lighter for a minute, then grunted with annoyance, putting away her cigarette. Damn interfering rain. She sniffled, huddling up. She was pretty sure she would be coming down with something or another later. If she lived that long. 

She tried not to think such thoughts, but it was hard. Her shoulder hurt from where it had been shot earlier, and she wasn't so sure that she wasn't trapped where she was. What then? If 24 hours passed without a kill, all of the collars would detonate. She wasn't so sure that she would be willing to martyr herself if she was trapped, and couldn't trust someone else to kill themselves just so she could live. 

She sat there crying silent tears for a few minutes, then looked up as she heard someone approach. "Stay back!" she shouted as she aimed the gun toward the approaching figure. "I have a gun and will use it!" 

The figure in the distance stopped moving and raised their hands. "You really shouldn't shout," he called back. "I'm probably not the only person who heard you." 

Vicky lowered the gun slightly, recognizing the voice of the Ravenclaw prefect, Anthony Goldstein (Boy 8, Ravenclaw). But remembering how Hannah had somehow become Hufflepuff prefect, she raised the gun again. "Then stay where you are and don't try anything!" 

She slowly stood up, picking up her pack while keeping her gun aimed at the boy. Cautiously, she advanced toward him. "What zones were announced at midnight?" 

"I'd have to check my map for certain," Anthony called back. "I don't have them memorized or anything." 

Vicky nodded as she walked to him, never taking her eyes off of him. "You do that. Slowly!" 

She was pretty sure that he rolled his eyes as he dropped his own pack to the ground and bent over it. She could see him better now as she drew closer. 

He stood up straight as he drew a piece of paper from his pack. "H-4, E-9, and J-5. In that order." 

Vicky nodded. "So it's all clear here, right?" 

Anthony shrugged. "I suppose. Can I put my map away so it doesn't get wet, or would you shoot me?" 

Vicky frowned. "Put it away." She was close now. "How many dead? I mean... We're not the last ones left, are we?" 

Anthony shrugged. "Not unless everyone else was at the site of that explosion. Only two announced at midnight. Theodore Nott and Ron Weasley." 

Vicky blinked and lowered the gun. "Ron's dead?" 

He nodded. "According to the announcement." There was a pause. "Are we just going to stand here? I'm sure that others heard you, and I don't want to be here if anyone shows up." 

"Huh?" She looked to him. "Oh. Uh, yeah. Just don't try anything or else." 

He rolled his eyes and picked up his pack. "I'd say something sarcastic here, but you'd probably shoot me, wouldn't you?" 

Vicky sighed. "Just shut up. Where are we going, anyway?" 

Anthony led the way south through H-1. "We? I'm your hostage now?" 

She gave him an annoyed look. "Well, unless you'd rather be alone." Her face softened and she ran to catch up to him. "And let's face it." She lowered her voice. "Two's better than one." 

He shrugged. "Can't argue there." 

**14 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 3:53 a.m.**   
"Do we really have to stay here?" Hermione asked as she looked at the corpse of Theodore Nott. Blaise looked over at her. "I mean, it just seems rather... morbid." 

Blaise shrugged, and turned back to look at the smoking forest. "It's better than moving around. I'm not so sure the fire's gone out completely." 

Surprisingly, the rain had been able to contain the fire, and most of it had been put out as well. Although they weren't quite sure if it was completely out or not, it didn't look like the whole forest would burn down as they had feared it would. 

Hermione shivered. "Even so, it's still gross." 

Blaise shrugged. "I've seen grosser." 

She gave him a look. "You are not helping." 

He chuckled. "I could hurl him into the sea if you want." 

"You're such a charmer," she said sarcastically. 

He laughed and took out a cigarette. Due to the wind and rain, it was hard to light, but finally he managed. "Damn weather..." he muttered as he exhaled some smoke. 

"I thought you were quitting." 

Blaise smirked. "Quit running. After this is all over." 

Hermione shook her head. "Git." 

The minutes passed as they sat in silence. "So..." Hermione began. "So whose handiwork do you think this is?" 

Blaise shrugged. "Dunno. Try not to dwell." 

She turned to him. "You keep saying that. Why shouldn't we dwell?" 

He exhaled some more smoke, then looked at her seriously. "Because it's a good way to end up dead. You're lost in your thoughts, thinking of what happened in the past or what might have, and end up losing your focus. Someone sneaks up on you, and that's it. Before you can react, you're dead. Or dying." He looked back to the forest. "Once this is all over, you'll have all the time to dwell. Until then, you have to stay focused. We all do." 

Hermione sighed and leaned back against the boulder. "So just react. Don't bother to think and find out who's playing, right?" 

He shrugged. "That'll just get you worked up and make you paranoid. We have to stay calm." 

She sighed again. "When's the last time you slept?" 

"Uh... Back at the clinic?" 

She nodded, then stood up straight and turned to him. "You sleep now. I'll keep watch." 

"Do I have to?" 

Hermione nodded. "You want your mind to stay sharp, right? Sleep. Don't make me hit you over the head with a rock to knock you out." 

Blaise saluted her as he jumped off the boulder he was sitting on. "Sir, yes, sir!" She gave him a withering look and he grinned. "Will you read me a bedtime story as well?" He chuckled as she glared at him. "I'll take that as a no." 

"Just get some sleep. I'll wake you for the announcement." 

**14 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 4:34 a.m.**   
"First time, huh?" Vicky asked as she straightened her robes. She glanced over her shoulder to Anthony, who was fastening his belt. 

"That was uncalled for," he said, scowling. 

She laughed. "Yeah, but it's true, isn't it?" She laughed again as he glared at her. "Although maybe it'd just due to the cold. Or the rain. Take your pick. I'm really not used to doing it outdoors, so I wouldn't know." 

He continued to glare at her. "It's still uncalled for." 

She shrugged. "Maybe. So shall we get to one of the houses up ahead? I'd like to deal with my shoulder sometime soon. It's really starting to ache." 

"Huh?" Anthony walked over to her and looked at her hurt shoulder. "You're hurt!" He frowned. "When did that happen?" 

She grabbed his hand as they picked up their packs. "Sometime yesterday afternoon. What, you think the occasional whimper of pain was due to it being my first time, because it wasn't." She grinned. "And for the record, you weren't the worst." She laughed as he turned red, and led him eastward toward the residential section. 

Neither of them spoke as they neared the houses, then turned north. They had to avoid the main section of houses, as it was located in a forbidden zone, and the northern detour wasn't anywhere near as long as the southern detour. Although it was rather close to the smoldering forest, but there was enough open space for that not to really matter. Even if the flames had gotten to the edge of the forest, they wouldn't quite be able to reach the residential section. Not without anything to burn, at least. 

Vicky ignored the occasional glances Anthony shot her way as they finally reached a house in G-6, which was still safe and non-forbidden. She raised an eyebrow as he opened the door for her. She really hoped he wasn't going to get all needy and clingy. Maybe they should have parted ways afterwards. Oh, well. 

She looked around the foyer as he followed her inside. Apparently someone forgot to take their shoes with them when the inhabitants were evacuated. She smiled slightly, then turned around sharply as the door slammed shut behind her. "Don't be so loud!" she scolded. "What if someone else is hiding out here?" 

Anthony smiled apologetically. "Sorry." 

Vicky sighed, walking out of the foyer and into the living room, aiming her gun in front of her. One could never be too careful. She made sure to watch Anthony out of the corner of her eye as well. She didn't quite trust him, although she was sure he would do whatever she wanted. When it came to girls, men would usually let their hormones do their thinking for them, and he was no exception. And if you gave them a taste, they would become your slaves. A nice system, really. One she rather enjoyed. 

Convinced that there wasn't anyone hiding out in the living room, she relaxed and sat down on the couch, dropping her pack to the floor in front. She looked over to Anthony, who was just standing there. She raised an eyebrow expectantly. 

He gestured to the staircase. "What if someone else is here? Shouldn't we check the rest of the house? And I thought you wanted to deal with your shoulder." 

Vicky sighed. "Don't concern yourself with me," she said. She pointed at her gun. "And if someone else is here, let them watch." 

He blinked. "Eh?" 

She laughed, then stood up. "I can tell that you're not thinking very straight right now. I suppose that's my fault." She walked towards the staircase. "I'll check to make sure no one else is here." 

He followed her. "Shouldn't I do that? I mean, you're hurt, and... Well..." 

"I'm a girl," she said flatly. She sighed as he nodded. "The other girls might be weak and in need of protection, but trust me when I say I can take care of myself." She ignored the look he gave her and began to climb the stairs. 

He watched her as she ascended the stairs, then sat down on the couch as she disappeared. He wasn't quite sure why he even bothered. She didn't need him, and both of them knew it. After glancing at his watch, he stood up and silently made his way to the front door. It was probably for the best that they part ways. 

Just as his hand was on the doorknob, he heard a gun go off upstairs. After debating with himself on what to do, he opened the door and ran outside. There must have been someone else inside, for he doubted that Vicky would fire her gun and alert others to their position if there weren't. Or maybe whoever else was inside fired their gun. Either way, it was too dangerous to stick around, regardless of who won. His supplied weapon was a short sword. It might be useful in melee combat, but it was useless in comparison to the guns he had been hearing in the last 24 hours. 

It was probably too dangerous to run out into the open. Due to the explosion earlier, and the fire it had started, he figured that his classmates would likely be along the coastline, avoiding the forest. So if he went to the forest, he could wait it out. Ground zero seemed like a good place to go to. Chances are nobody would be around there. Well, nobody living. 

His mind set, he ran into the yard. Before he could clear it, another gunshot fired, and he could feel his leg burn with pain, and then give out. He fell hard to the ground. Before he had the chance to turn around, he vaguely heard the sound of a rattling machine gun. He screamed in pain, then fell silent. 

Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) stepped away from the window, holding the smoking Ingram in his left hand, and Kevin Entwhistle's Beretta in the other. He calmly pried the gun out of Vicky's cold hand, then exited the bedroom he had been sleeping in. He supposed he was lucky that he was a light sleeper, and had heard the front door slam and the two students enter. If he weren't, well, there was no telling what might have happened if he had been found asleep. 

Nonchalantly, he walked downstairs to collect the packs of his latest victims. 

**12 students remaining**


	19. The Lighthouse

**September 3, 1996 -- 12:28 p.m.**   
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) groaned as the annoying ray of sunshine kept shining on his face, interrupting his sleep. He was tired and wanted to sleep in. But no. That stupid light kept bothering him. Why hadn't he closed the curtains the night before? Before long, he just couldn't stand it anymore, and decided that he might as well get up. Yawning, he sat up and stretched. 

After his muscles began to work again, he opened his eyes and looked around his dormitory at Gryffindor Tower. Everyone else had their curtains closed. Rather odd, considering how the sun seemed to be shining brightly outside. Maybe it was still early morning, and he just got up before everyone else did. That would explain why he still felt tired. 

He'd had the most horrible nightmare the night before, about how his class was chosen to fight to the death on some god-forsaken island. He smiled at the thought. It was rather silly, really. And everyone was where they were supposed to be now, alive and sleeping in. 

Relieved that it was all just a dream, he walked out of his dormitory and into the common room. It must be early, as it was surprisingly empty. Well, almost empty. Professor McGonagall was standing in the center of the room, holding a long piece of parchment and a quill. Harry yawned again, and she looked up. 

"Where have you been?" she asked irritated as she crossed the room towards him. "Everyone else has already been fitted downstairs, so get a move on!" 

Harry blinked, still tired. "Er... Fitted for what exactly?" 

Professor McGonagall tutted. "For their coffins, of course. Now hurry so you won't be late!" 

A confused look drew on Harry's face, but before he could open his mouth to speak, she had let him out of the common room and into the Great Hall, which was for some odd reason just on the other side of the portrait. 

Still confused, he looked around the Great Hall, which was for some odd reason decorated like a funeral parlor. Or at least, what he imagined a funeral parlor must look like, as he'd never actually been to one before. Either way, he didn't have much time to think it over, as Dumbledore was heading his way. 

"You're just in time!" the old wizard exclaimed cheerfully as he approached. "Just as soon as you're fitted, you can join in the party. Look! Your friends are already here!" He pointed to the other end of the Great Hall, where the rest of Harry's classmates were gathered on what at first glance appeared to be a dark carpet of some sort. 

Harry frowned. Something was wrong. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he took a closer look at the carpet his laughing classmates were standing on. The light of the sun shining overhead reflected off of it, and Harry realized that it wasn't a carpet at all. "That's blood..." he said quietly. 

"Yes, yes." Dumbledore patted his shoulder. "Of course it's blood. Some of them died rather messily, after all." 

Harry turned to the Headmaster, then looked back to his classmates. He could see that a number of them were stained with blood that dripped to the floor. "No..." He involuntarily took a step back into a cold draft. He turned around. 

Moaning Myrtle smiled as he faced her. "Once you're fitted, do you want to join me in the u-bend? Being dead can be unbearably lonely, and I was so hoping that someone would help ease the loneliness." 

He shook his head and stepped back from her. "No... I'm not dead yet... It was just a dream... A nightmare..." 

The ghost laughed and faded out from view. Harry was beyond confusion now. He felt like someone had implanted a block of ice in his stomach. 

"I trusted you!" a girl shouted from behind him. Harry turned around to face Hermione, whose clothes were soaked with blood. "I trusted you to protect me, and you ran away! How could you do this?!" 

Harry shook his head. "No. You're wrong. I- I wouldn't..." He backed up as she approached, followed by the rest of their classmates, who were holding tape measures and chanting 'Time to be fit.' 

No matter how much space he tried to put between him and his classmates, they kept advancing. With a thud he ended with his back against the wall. There was no escape! He could feel a scream building up inside as they closed in. He shut his eyes tightly as they grabbed at him. There was a blinding light. 

He could no longer feel the cold hands of his classmates grab him, although the light remained. Trying to raise one of his arms to block out the light, he hissed as pain surged through his body. A warm hand gently pushed his arm back down to his side. 

"You shouldn't move," a soft female voice said. He knew that voice... "You've been badly injured." 

He slowly opened his eyes, although the light shining overhead was rather annoying. He looked up at the face of Susan Bones (Girl 2, Hufflepuff), who smiled at him warmly. 

"Looks like you're awake. I'm so glad." 

**12 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 12:31 p.m.**   
"A total loss," Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) said as she stepped away from the minivan. "One side is almost completely caved in, and even if it started, it's leaking some sort of fluid." 

Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) nodded, then chuckled. "You've got some grease all over your clothes." 

Hermione shrugged, smiling. "Shall I check the truck? I don't think we damaged it much." 

"Yeah. Still not sure it's the best idea in the world. Driving around. Rather conspicuous." 

She started to run her fingers through her hair, but then stopped when she realized her hands were dirty from checking under the hood. "We won't be driving. Not unless we have to. But it might be a good idea to make sure we have at least one way to escape quickly if we have to." 

Blaise nodded in agreement. "True." He chuckled. "Never figured that you would know much about cars." 

Hermione smirked. "I read a lot of books." She wiped her hands on the front of her robes, which were rather dirty already. Crouching down onto the ground, she took her map out of her pack. "Not much open road left, though. Too many forbidden zones. Unless we cut through the forest, which I would not recommend, we would be confined here in the north." 

"Damn." Blaise sat down on the ground next to his pack and robes, which he removed earlier for ease of movement. As he sat down though, a small object fell out of his back pocket and opened, playing a sorrowful melody. His eyes quickly widened, and he reached behind him and picked up the locket, closing it. 

Hermione walked over to him. "What is that?" she asked. 

"Uh... Nothing?" 

She gave him a look, then sat next to him. "A locket?" 

He nodded and opened it again. The melody began again. Hermione looked down at it to see a still picture of what must have been his family, taken years ago. "I think this is the only picture of all of us together," he said softly. "A little bit before Cynthia's first birthday, my father got transferred in the Ministry. Called in to work at the Department of Mysteries. He sent us money, but we never saw him since. Having a family was too dangerous, or some crap like that." The melody started over again. "His family never approved of my mother, so I don't think they ever got married. That's why we kids used her last name instead of his." 

Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry." 

He shrugged. "Probably for the best. He's a rather self-centered bastard. He didn't even bother going to Mama's funeral. Or Larissa's memorial. Probably won't go to mine, either." He smiled slightly. "At least Cynthia's safe. She's a squib. Or a muggle. Not sure what a non-magic child of a wizard and muggle would be considered." He shrugged. "Probably doesn't really matter." 

"Yeah..." Hermione continued to look at the picture. The face of Blaise's father looked familiar... Before she could quite place it, the locket snapped shut and Blaise stood up. 

"Enough reminiscing. Shall we take a look at the truck?" 

"Yeah..." Hermione stood up as well, dusting herself off. "Hopefully that'll be working. I don't feel like stealing another car any time soon." 

He half-smiled, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I can't even begin to imagine what books you must read to learn how to steal cars." 

Hermione just smiled enigmatically as they walked towards their abandoned truck. 

**12 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 12:34 p.m.**   
Harry had tried to sit up, but found himself in far too much pain to do so, so just gave up trying and lied back in bed. 

"As I said, you've been badly injured. You shouldn't move," Susan said. 

He tried to nod, but even that hurt. "Where am I? How long have I been here?" He was amazed to find that he could still speak. At least he thought he could. He wasn't so sure that his speech was all that understandable. 

Susan seemed to understand him, though. "One question at a time. We're in a lighthouse in the northwest end of the island, and you've been out for the past..." She glanced at her watch. "...Sixteen hours or so." 

"Sixteen hours?" Harry repeated, completely awake now. That meant that he had missed the last three announcements. "Hermione and Blaise-- Are they... Are they still alive?" 

She shrugged. "They haven't been announced as dead, so I would presume so." She bit her lip, looking a little hesitant. 

Harry didn't notice as he looked off to the side. So they were still alive. At least according to the latest announcement, anyway. "What time is it?" 

Susan looked at her watch again, relaxing from her earlier nervousness. "Just a little after 12:30." 

So that meant that they were probably still alive. At least Neville hadn't found them. 

He suddenly turned to Susan, ignoring the pain he felt from making the sudden movement. "It's Neville! He's the one shooting!" 

Susan widened her eyes. "So he's the one who attacked you?" 

Harry tried to nod, but once again it hurt. Maybe he should just lie still from now on and not try to move. "Ow. Yeah. He ambushed us last night as we were leaving the clinic." 

"Us?" 

"Me and Hermione and Blaise. We got split up after we ended up in a shootout with him." He looked at the ceiling, letting his mind wander. "Did he...? I mean... Who died since...?" 

Susan bit her lip and walked across the room to a small table, where she took out a piece of paper. Harry couldn't see what it was from where he was positioned, but was sure it was a class list as she began to read off it. "Hannah Abbott and Vicky Frobisher. And Stephen Cornfoot, Kevin Entwhistle, Anthony Goldstein, Theodore Nott, and--" Her voice cut off abruptly and she looked toward the door on the other side of the room. 

Harry slowly tried to sit up. He discovered it didn't hurt as much to move if he took things slowly. "And?" 

Susan turned back to him, biting her lip nervously. "We weren't sure on whether to tell you or not, but..." She sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Ron... He..." 

Harry felt numb inside. "No..." 

Susan nodded her head. "He was announced at midnight," she said so softly that he could barely hear her. 

They were silent for a few minutes as Harry processed the information. Susan was just about to get up and leave him alone when he started speaking again. 

"So who else is here?" he asked. "I mean, you mentioned something about a 'we'. Who else is here?" 

"Oh." Susan sat back down from her half-standing position. "Me and Megan, Sally-Anne, Lavender, Su, and Sadie. We've been here since pretty much the beginning of the game. Well, most of us. Lavender joined up with us a little later." 

He slowly nodded. 

"So... What about you?" she asked. "What have you been doing?" 

"Where to begin?" He sighed. "It's a really long story." 

Susan nodded. "I'm all ears." 

Taking a deep breath, he began to tell her about how he had been attacked by Ernie back at the school, but had escaped and met up with Hermione at the supply store later, only to be attacked by Zacharias and Michael (not at the same time, of course) and saved by Blaise, who had been with them since. He told her about how Hermione had made herself sick with worry, so they had gone to the clinic, only to be attacked by Neville as they left. 

Susan leaned back in her chair. "I see... So Zacharias... That was an accident?" 

Harry thought it odd that she would ask about that first, but didn't comment. "Yeah. Just as I said. Why?" 

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter." 

Although he still found it rather strange, he let the matter drop. "So how'd all of you end up together? What are the odds?" 

She looked slightly relieved at the change of subject and smiled. "Well, when I came out of the school, the others had already gathered and were waiting for me." She shrugged. "Well, Lavender wasn't, but as I said, she joined us later. We had called out to her, but she didn't hear us or something. We were going to call out to Tracey as well, but Justin came out before her and we didn't want to stick around." At Harry's confused look, she clarified. "He was the one who killed Ernie." 

"Why didn't you call out to any of the guys?" Harry asked. 

"We decided that it would be best not to call out to any of the boys, or anyone else that no one could vouch for. We weren't going to bring you in, but I was able to convince the others to make an exception. I mean, I can't just let someone die." 

Harry closed his eyes. "So some of them were reluctant?" 

Susan nodded. "Nothing personal, really. But just look at the circumstances." Tears formed in her eyes. "I'm so glad you're alright, though." There was another pause, then she stood up. "Oh, I almost forgot." She walked back to the table on the other side of the room and grabbed another sheet of paper. "Your map. I marked off the forbidden zones as they were announced. Most of them are along the coast." She handed the map to him and sat back down. 

Harry opened his eyes and slowly sat up, holding his side as he did so. "What happened to my robes and shirt?" he asked as looked down at himself for the first time and realized that they were missing. 

Susan pointed at the foot of the bed. "We had to treat your injuries, and couldn't very well do so without removing them, now could we?" She smirked. "We made sure to kick Sadie out of the room before we did, though. She's kind of a pervert. Wanted to remove your pants as well." 

He chuckled, then winced. Apparently laughing hurt. He'd have to remember that. "Too bad I wasn't awake for that." 

She shrugged. "Well, you weren't in the best of shape when we brought you in. Covered in blood and all. We found a first-aid kit, and were able to stitch and bandage your wounds as best we could, but none of us really knew all too much." 

Harry nodded and looked down at the map. '_Happy surgery land._' The small supply store located in H-4 had become forbidden at 1 am the night before. "Dammit," he cursed under his breath. Blaise and Hermione were probably long gone by now. Not like he was in much condition to walk that far as bandaged and hurting as he was. 

"I'm surprised that the explosion last night didn't wake you," Susan's voice cut into his thoughts. 

Harry closed his eyes. "Neville's got grenades. Tossed a few our way last night." 

Susan shook her head. "We heard those earlier, but this... This was a much bigger explosion. Lit up the whole island. If it hadn't been raining, it might have ended up burning the whole forest down. I think it's still smoldering." 

Harry opened his eyes and turned to her. "The forest burned down?" 

She shrugged. "No. At least not what we can see." She looked at her watch. "Lunch should be ready soon. We found some canned food and water, and I think we're having stew. You hungry?" 

Harry's stomach growled in assertion. "Starved," he said, smiling. 

She laughed and walked over to the door. "I'm really sorry, but I'm going to have to lock the door. One of the girls is absolutely terrified, so we had to compromise that we'd keep it locked when no one was in here with you." 

"Yeah..." 

She smiled and walked out. As she did he could see a gun tucked in the back of the skirt she wore. After she had left and the door had closed, he heard something that sounded very much like the door being bolted shut. 

He took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. 

**12 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 12:58 p.m.**   
Lavender Brown (Girl 4, Gryffindor) sat at the table in the middle of the lighthouse's kitchen, which was a rather large room that doubled as a living room. Or at least, that's where the girls had been sleeping and hanging around. She hadn't gotten any sleep, though. She couldn't. Not with everything that had happened. 

Toward the far end of the room, Sally-Anne Perks (Girl 18, Hufflepuff) and Sadie Roper (Girl 19, Slytherin) were busy preparing lunch. Lavender rubbed her forehead in frustration as Sally-Anne hummed an inappropriately cheerful tune. She couldn't even begin to imagine how that girl could always seem to be cheerful. Especially at a time like this. 

To the side of the room Su Li (Girl 11, Ravenclaw) sat on a sofa, rubbing her temples. She looked just as annoyed as Lavender felt, but she didn't say anything about the obnoxious humming either. 

Lavender looked towards the front entrance. Megan Jones (Girl 10, Hufflepuff) was outside on guard duty. She thought about going outside to help, but remembered what Susan had told her about it not being very difficult, so there was no need. Even so, she couldn't stop herself from trembling at the thought that _he_ was here. 

She looked towards the kitchen again. Between the kitchen counter and a staircase that led upstairs was a table that they had placed their weapons upon. Well, she hadn't, but hers was rather useless, really. They had also put the two guns they had found with him on the table. She wondered who exactly he had killed for those. 

She placed her head between her hands, trying to block out the mental images she kept getting of what happened to Zacharias. Although the other girls had tried to convince her that it must have been an accident, she couldn't help but remember how she saw Harry stand over him, holding the bloody hatchet. And now there was a killer sleeping in the other room. 

No. He wasn't just sleeping. He was dying. He had been severely injured, and was going to die from his wounds. She had to believe that. It might not give her much solace, but he couldn't live. Not after what he did... 

When Susan, who had been keeping watch at the time, had found him in the field, Lavender had naturally opposed him being brought in. She told the others about how she had seen him kill Zacharias, and how he would kill them if they brought him in. But in the end, the others outvoted her, arguing that they couldn't just let him die. So she had no choice but to watch as they brought in a soulless monster and tried to nurse him back to help. Since then, she had tried to convince herself that there was no way he would survive. Not with his injuries. No matter how good the other girls might be at playing nurse, he just couldn't live. 

The door that led to the room he was sleeping (no, dying) in opened, and Susan emerged, smiling. Lavender looked up as Susan closed the door and placed the plank in front of it. The other girls turned to Susan in anticipation. 

She flashed them the thumbs up sign. "He's awake." 

Sadie and Sally-Anne cheered. Even Su seemed to have cracked a smile. 

Lavender slumped down in her seat, turning pale. 

**12 students remaining**


	20. The War of Girls

**Not-So-Obligatory Author Note #3** -- I haven't done a question and answer session in ages, because they simply took too long to type out. But there were some questions I wanted to answer, so I did. I still don't own anything. Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, and Battle Royale belongs to Koushun Takami. Since I am neither of those people, and neither of them have given me the rights as far as I know, I can't lay claim to either. Now read on and review!   
  
  
**September 3, 1996 -- 1:02 p.m.**   
"So how's he feeling?" Sadie Roper (Girl 19, Slytherin) asked as she walked over to Susan. "Is he going to be all right?" 

Susan Bones (Girl 2, Hufflepuff) nodded, still smiling. "He's going to be just fine. Hungry, though." She turned to Lavender Brown (Girl 4, Gryffindor). "Don't worry. I locked the door." 

She nodded. "Yeah." The aroma of the cooking stew drifted under her nose, and her thoughts turned to the little vial in her pocket. They had been certain he wouldn't live through the night, but he had. But if someone in his condition were to suddenly take a turn for the worse, it wouldn't be that suspicious... "I'll be fine." She forced a smile. "I mean, you must have asked him about what happened, right?" 

Susan nodded. "He said it was an accident." 

Lavender forced herself to nod once. "An accident." 

Sally-Anne Perks (Girl 18, Hufflepuff) crossed the room to the front door. "I'm going to bring in Megan for lunch." 

"Okay." Susan walked over to the sofa where Su Li (Girl 11, Ravenclaw) was sitting and sat down next to her. Sadie joined them on the floor in front. "I hope he can eat the same stuff as us," Susan said. "I'd hate for him to just get sick or something." 

Lavender watched them carefully as she slowly stood up from the table and walked toward the kitchen counter, where there was a stack of dishes for their stew. Trembling, she took the vial out of her pocket, removing the cork with her thumb. 

"I still don't see why you wouldn't let me help you remove his clothes," Sadie protested from her space on the floor. 

Su raised an eyebrow. "Probably because you would try to grope him or something." 

Sadie shrugged, smiling. "Can I help it if I'm a healthy and normal teenage girl?" 

Susan laughed. "I'm not so sure about the normal part." 

"Hey, Susan," Lavender called from the kitchen. The others turned to her. "Um, maybe we should serve Harry first. Since he needs to build up his strength and all." She tried to keep her hands from trembling as she held the dish. "It looks like the stew's done..." 

Susan nodded. "Okay. Oh, and can you grab the first aid kit? It's in that drawer over there. Second one down. There should be some painkillers in there." 

Lavender nodded, setting the dish of stew back onto the counter. 

The front door opened. Sally-Anne walked back inside with Megan Jones (Girl 10, Hufflepuff), who was carrying the Uzi. 

"So Harry's awake, huh?" She walked to the kitchen. "And lunch, too!" She sat the Uzi on the counter. 

Lavender ignored the others, trying to calm herself as she opened the first aid kit. Where were the painkillers? Why couldn't the kit be nice and organized like it was supposed to be? Bandages, gauze, cotton swabs... Where were the blasted painkillers? 

"Lunch smells delicious," Megan said as she entered the kitchen, sniffing. 

Lavender ignored her as she rummaged through the kit. Ah, here are the stupid painkillers! She closed the medical kit, and put it back in the drawer. Not like he would need painkillers anyway. 

"Mind if I have a taste?" Megan asked the other girls. 

Lavender stood up and turned around to see her put the dish to her mouth. Her eyes widened. No... If she wanted to taste the stew, she should have used a spoon or something... Not that dish... Not the one she had sprinkled with the transparent powder... 

The dish clattered to the floor, shattering. Megan began to cough as she fell to her hands and knees. The stew she had just swallowed splattered onto the floor, but was quickly painted over with a splotch of red as she started coughing more violently. 

"Megan!" 

The other girls rushed over to her as she crashed to the ground and remained perfectly still. Lavender stared on as she backed towards the corner. No... 

The other four girls crowded around their fallen comrade. "She's dead..." one of them whispered. 

No... 

Susan turned to the others. "Do you think it was food poisoning?" 

It was a mistake... 

Sally-Anne shook her head. "I just tried it not too long ago, and I'm fine. It must... Someone must have..." 

It wasn't meant for her... 

"...Poison?" Sadie whispered in a hushed tone. 

Lavender sank down to the floor, staring wide-eyed at Megan's corpse. 

The four girls looked at each other, backing away from one another. With a screech, Su had grabbed the Uzi from the table. 

"Which one of you did it?!" she screamed, aiming the gun at the other girls. "Who?!" 

"Calm down!" Susan said, reaching for her gun. She stopped as the Uzi was trained on her. "None of us would do something like that!" 

Su scoffed. "Last count said twelve left! And now the enemy's finally shown their claws!" She aimed the gun at Sadie. "You were the cook! How do we know that it wasn't you, huh?! The slithering Slytherin baring her fangs at last!" 

Sadie shook her head. "I wasn't the only one cooking! Sally-Anne was cooking, too!" 

"No!" Sally-Anne shouted. "I could never do such a thing!" She turned to Su, who was aiming the gun at her now. "I wouldn't!" 

Susan took a step forward. "Just calm yourself and put the gun down!" The gun aimed at her again. 

"And how do we know this wasn't your plan all along? Act like the perfect little leader so you could kill us all? Looks like your plan has failed!" 

Lavender opened her mouth, trying to explain, but no words came out. She had to tell them so nothing worse would happen. She had to say something! 

Sally-Anne dashed for the table with the weapons, reaching for the Glock 9mm on it. Before she could reach it, gunshots fired rapidly, and she crashed to the ground. 

"You killed her..." Susan whispered. She turned around to face Su. "What did you do?" 

Su glared at her. "You saw her reach for the gun. Because she was guilty." 

"You reached for a gun, too!" Sadie shrieked. "Susan, do something!" 

Susan watched Su carefully as the girl aimed the Uzi toward Sadie. She herself reached for her Browning tucked in her skirt. She didn't want to shoot the other girl. Maybe if she just injured her. Maybe got her arm or leg or something. 

Before she could quite reach her gun, Su fired at her, propelling her backwards in a spray of blood. She fell to the ground, and Sadie dashed to the table for one of the guns. The Uzi fired again, and she fell to the floor. 

Lavender whimpered as the gun aimed at her now. She still couldn't speak. 

"What about you? Are you any different?" 

There was a gunshot, and a hole appeared in the side of Su's forehead. Lavender turned her head slightly to see Sadie, painfully sitting up and holding the Glock. 

The Uzi fired again as Su fell to the ground. Blood sprayed across the room as bullets ripped through Sadie's body. 

The gunfire finally ceased, and there was silence. Lavender trembled as she looked over at the corpses of five of her classmates. 

**7 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 1:07 p.m.**   
When Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) had heard a dish shatter onto the floor, he figured that one of the girls must have been clumsy and dropped it. But soon he could hear the muffled sound of the girls arguing loudly, and got up out of bed. Walking barefoot across the cold floor, he went to the door and tried the doorknob. Although it turned just fine, as he tried to push open the door, something prevented it from opening. Through the small gap, he could see a wooden plank set across it, preventing him from leaving. 

He tried to slam the door a few times against the plank, hoping that he could somehow knock it aside, but it wouldn't budge. Sighing, he gave up and was about to walk back to bed when he heard the rattling of gunshots, followed by screaming. His eyes widened, and he turned to the door again, trying once more to move the plank. Still nothing. 

Taking a few steps back, he tried tackling the door, even though it made him hurt all over. He was sure that he was bleeding again, too, due to the wetness he felt around his bandages. Keeping himself steady, he kicked the door, but still it wouldn't move. 

The gunshots continued as he went back to the bed, pulling it closer to the door. Once one end was right in front of the door, he went around to the other end. Summoning all of his strength, he gave it a mighty push. He could hear the plank splinter on the other side. Another push, and the door swung open. Not caring how much it hurt, he crawled over the bed to the open door, climbing outside. 

"No..." The bodies of five of his classmates were sprawled out in the kitchen space, covered with blood and bulletholes. One of them had rather disfigured splotches all over her skin. He took a few steps forward. 

"Stay away!" 

He looked to the corner of the kitchen, where Lavender was shakily standing up. He took another step forward, and she ran past the corpses of her friends and up the staircase next to the kitchen. 

"Lavender, wait!" He stumbled forward to the staircase. "What happened here?" She didn't answer, so he followed. 

Lavender was rather surprised at how strong the wind felt from the top of the lighthouse. She had managed to crawl through the narrow space the lens protruded out from, and was inching her way around the narrow balcony, holding on to the railing for dear life while the wind pushed at her. It was like it wanted her to fall to her death to the ground below. But if she could find the stairs that would lead her down to safety, she could get away. At least, she thought there were stairs that led down. She had never really looked at the lighthouse's exterior. 

Dimly, she could hear Harry ascend the staircase, shouting something. She had to get away. She inched around, looking down at the beach below. And now the roads were coming into view. There were a couple of vehicles down there. Huh. But where were the stupid stairs? The forest, which was still smoldering from the explosion the night before. She hadn't seen the damage, but the others had told her about it. And once again rounding out to the sea below. There weren't any stairs! 

She would have to jump. Carefully, she climbed between the wide spacing of the railing, making sure not to make any sudden moves lest she lose her grip and fall. Slowly... Carefully... She took a moment to reorient herself, then started inching her way around the lighthouse again. The beach would probably be the best place to jump down to. Why did progress have to be so slow? 

"Lavender!" Harry called from her right. 

She swiftly turned to him, losing her balance as she did so. She screamed, gripping the railing tightly as she lost her foothold. Her eyes widened as she realized that her grip was loosening. Her palms were sweaty, and the wind was howling around her, making things worse. Her right hand fell to the side, and she could feel her left hand start to slip as well... 

Something grabbed her hand just as she started to fall. She looked up at Harry, who was holding onto her hand, grimacing in pain. The fact that he was injured only registered in her mind for a second before fear overtook her. 

"Let me go!" she screamed, trying to twist away from him. "Let me go!" 

"Don't move!" he called back. "You'll end up falling if you do!" 

She continued to thrash. "I won't let you kill me, like you killed Zacharias!" Harry almost lost his grip on her. "It was supposed to be you! You were supposed to eat the poisoned food! It was supposed to be you!" 

So that's what happened. He tried to tighten his grip on her, but the blood dripping down his arm was making his hold rather slippery. As it was, he could barely hang on to the balcony with his injured left hand. 

Something started to pry his fingers loose. He looked down to see that Lavender had reached around with her other hand, and was trying to pull free. 

"No! Don't!" He tried to tighten his grip. 

Lavender looked at him. "It should have been you." She pried his fingers loose. He felt the weight pulling at him vanish as she fell to the rocks below. She landed at an awkward angle, a pool of red blood forming around her head. 

"No..." 

He stared down at her, his right arm still dangling over the side. 

**6 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 1:22 p.m.**   
Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) leaned against the truck, looking toward the lighthouse with a frown on his face as he smoked a cigarette. Gunshots had been fired there less than twenty minutes ago, and they were situated far too close. He looked to Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor). "So will it start?" he asked. 

She stepped back from the open hood. "I can't find anything wrong with it, so it should start. You want me to start her up?" 

He shook his head, exhaling some smoke. "Not yet." He looked back to the lighthouse. "Whoever's in there would hear it start up, and might come out shooting before we could leave." 

Hermione shrugged as she lowered the hood. "Maybe. But we'd be able to get away." She smirked. "I doubt anyone could outrun me when I'm behind the wheel." 

Blaise chuckled. "I don't doubt that. You damn near killed me last time you were driving." 

Hermione laughed, then walked to the driver's side door. She reached for the handle, and then froze. "How many of us are left?" Her companion turned to her, and she gestured to the lighthouse. "I'm not going to be so foolishly optimistic to believe that no one died. Someone must have. Maybe more than one. I wonder..." 

Blaise closed his eyes. "Things are really getting close to the end game." He clenched his fists, frowning. "Damn..." 

Hermione nodded, opening the door. Just as she was about to climb inside to investigate the interior, the lighthouse door opened, and a figure emerged. "Blaise. Someone's coming," she whispered, ducking down ever so slightly to hide herself from view while keeping watch over the figure. 

"I see him," Blaise said, standing perfectly still. From where he was, he was unable to hide behind the truck, so had to make due with staying still and hoping that he wouldn't be noticed. 

Hermione nodded silently, trying to figure out who the person who just left the lighthouse was. From what she could see, he was a male with dark hair. Going through the student list in her mind, her eyes widened. "It's Harry..." she said. Sure enough, the sunlight reflected off of his glasses as he looked around. 

"Holy crap, it is," Blaise said, amazed. "What're the odds?" 

Hermione reached into the truck and honked the horn. "Harry!" she shouted as she stepped around to the hood, standing up as tall as she could so he could see her. He turned around to face them. 

Blaise shook his head. "You're gonna get us killed," he said, smiling. "Over here!" he called out to him, waving as Harry approached. 

"How-- What are you guys doing here?" Harry asked as he joined them. He winced in pain as Hermione ran around the truck and hugged him. "Ow! Not so tight!" 

"Huh?" She stepped back, releasing him. She looked him over and gasped. "You're hurt!" 

Harry nodded. "So I've noticed." 

Blaise walked up to him, smiling warmly. "You look like hell." 

Harry laughed. "Feel like hell, too." His face grew more serious. "We should get out of here. Someone will have heard us." 

Hermione nodded sheepishly. "Honking the horn probably wasn't the best idea." She paused. "What happened back there? We heard gunfire." 

Harry's face turned solemn. "There was a group of girls hiding out there. One of them had seen what happened with Zacharias and tried to poison me. She ended up poisoning one of the other girls by mistake. They ended up turning on one another." He looked down at the heavy pack he was carrying in his uninjured hand. Before he had left the lighthouse, he had collected the girls' guns, and put his shirt and shoes back on. He left his robes behind, though, as bloodied as they were. "So... What did I miss?" he asked, looking back up at them and setting the pack on the ground. 

Blaise shrugged, tossing his finished cigarette to the side. "Not much. After we got split up, we went to the store--" He stopped abruptly and looked to Hermione, whose face had clouded over with sorrow. 

"We... Found Ron there," she said shakily. "Hannah had shot him." 

Harry's face turned pale. He had known that his friend had died, but hadn't known how, or who had killed him. 

"He..." Tears were streaming down Hermione's face now. "He died in my arms..." she finished in a small voice. 

Harry nodded, and gave her a half hug with his uninjured arm. She returned the hug, careful not to hurt him by holding on too tight. After a few minutes, she pulled away. 

"I got her, though," she whispered, her voice bitter. 

Harry looked at her, stunned. Before he could say anything, Blaise interrupted. 

"Anyway, I'm glad you're alright." He placed his hand behind his head. "Well, besides being injured and all." 

Harry nodded. "Yeah." He glanced down at the pack. "We should probably get out of here. Neville might show up." 

Hermione followed his eyes to the pack, which was considerably bulkier than it had been before they had separated. "What's in there?" she asked. 

"Huh? Oh." He bent down and unzipped it. "I figured that these might come in useful. I feel kinda bad, having taken both of the guns with me when we split before." He started removing the guns he had found at the lighthouse, along with the boxes of bullets that went with them. He had no idea which gun took which bullets, though. 

Blaise crouched down to investigate. "Well, we're certainly well armed now, aren't we?" 

Harry nodded. "It seems... I don't know. Wrong." There was a pause. "Are we going to turn out the same way? Paranoid enough to turn on each other? I don't think there are too many of us left." 

Blaise stood up. "I have a plan." The others looked to him. "I don't want to say any more, but I think--" He touched his collar and paused, choosing his words carefully. "Hasn't it ever bothered you? Why they make us do these things? It's not a deterrent, because hardly anyone knows about the program unless it happened to someone they knew or they'd done their research. So why, then?" 

Neither Harry nor Hermione could answer, although his questions did give them cause to think. 

After a long silence, Hermione spoke up. "They... It's not a secret. Not really. People do know about it, even if they don't talk about it. The information's out there, if anyone wants to bother looking up international law." She looked over to Blaise. "It's to breed fear and mistrust, isn't it?" He nodded. "Everyone was getting over the after effects of the first war against V-Voldemort, and were starting to trust one another again. But that meant that people would be thinking more rationally, so..." She continued, her voice barely more than a whisper. "It's so people won't think for themselves and come together to overthrow the government." 

Blaise nodded. "Pretty much. And to keep people's attentions away from all the other corruption and whatnot by giving them something major to object to." He smirked. "So you can just imagine how much they hate it when we don't play by their rules and end up trusting one another." 

"But..." Harry began. "But if there can be only one survivor, how can anyone trust anyone?" 

Blaise chuckled. "I told you. Every system has its flaws." He touched his collar again. "Even this one." 

Hermione's eyes widened with realization. He had mentioned something like that earlier... Could it be...? Did Blaise know how to remove the collars? She looked to Harry, who also seemed to have gotten the hint. 

Blaise smiled. "So... Anyone up for some lunch?" 

**6 students remaining**   
  
  
**Question & Answer Session #3**   
1-_Will we ever learn about what happened to Percy?_   
Not in the course of the story. The earliest opportunity to mention his fate would be in the final chapter, but I just couldn't make it flow well with the rest of the chapter. For the record, though, the Dragons (Charlie's group of survivors and other anti-Ministry insurrectionists) break him out of prison and he ends up a fugitive. Someday I'll write a side-story about it, but I've got other stories I want to finish first. 

2-_Will we see Charlie?_   
Yep. In the final chapter. 

3-_Is Blaise evil?_   
No. He tries to do the right thing. He might not have always understood why, but he's beginning to understand. 

4-_According to the prophecy in OotP, isn't Voldemort the only one who can kill Harry (and vice versa)?_   
Only J.K. Rowling really knows for sure. But since no names were actually named in the actual prophecy, I'm using a looser interpretation. It will be addressed in Chapter 23. 

5-_Is there a way off the island?_   
Yes, Blaise knows how to escape. A better question is: Do they manage to do so? (I'm not answering that, by the way. You'll find out in Chapter 23, which should be posted on Wednesday the 28th.) 

6-_Have you read Lord of the Flies?_   
I think it was assigned back when I was in school, but I can't remember if I actually read it or just skimmed through it. Since I can't remember much about it I suppose I skimmed through. Or maybe it was just because it was a really long time ago. For an idea of just how long, ten years ago I would have been in 8th grade. I feel really old now. 

7-_Is Montgomery Blaise's father?_   
Ah, the question that I've so been hoping someone would ask. Yes, he is. It's never outright stated in the context of the story, but it is strongly implied. 

The last time I did a Q&A session was in Chapter 8. I'm so lazy... 


	21. Following the Call

**September 3, 1996 -- 2:15 p.m.**   
Despite the fact the Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) had pointed out that someone was likely to come and investigate the shooting at the lighthouse, or the honking of the truck's horn, nobody had come. It was probably due to the fact that whoever was left was nowhere near their location, and figured that by the time they arrived, nobody would remain around the scene. So after waiting for almost an hour for someone to interrupt their reunion, Blaise finally showed signs of relaxing. 

"It's strange," Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) said. The others looked to her, and she glanced to her watch. "You would think someone would have shown up by now." 

Blaise shrugged. "It could be that we're the last ones left. I guess we'll find out at six." 

Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) looked over to him, alarmed. "But we haven't heard any gunshots. At least I haven't." 

Hermione nodded. "And I doubt Neville would die without a fight." 

Blaise nodded, and took a piece of paper and a pencil out of his pack. He tore off the bottom part of the paper, and then tore that in half, writing something on each piece. "Just in case," he said, putting away the pencil and remnants of the class list, "you might need these." He handed one of the halves to Harry, and the other to Hermione. Before they could read what he had written, he stopped them. "Not yet. Only if I die here." 

Harry shook his head. "No. You're going to live." 

Blaise smiled sadly. "No. I'm not." He leaned back against the truck, looking up at some seagulls that were flying in the sky overhead. "Whether I die here, or die later when I try to tear down the system, it doesn't really matter. I'm still going to die. I'm a marked man." 

"No you're not," Harry said forcefully. Blaise turned back to him. "Trust me when I say you're not." He closed his eyes and took in a breath, not sure on whether to continue or not. Finally deciding that it would be for the best, he turned to Hermione. "You remember the prophecy we were protecting last year at the Department of Mysteries? The one about me?" 

She blinked, then stood up straighter. "Yeah... Why?" 

"Dumbledore told me what it said after we got back to Hogwarts." Harry didn't even bother to look at them as he spoke. Instead, he focused on a spot just past them. "According to the prophecy, only I have the ability to stop Voldemort for good. That's why he tried to kill me when I was a baby. Because if he didn't, then I might defeat him. Kill or be killed. Just like this stupid game." He sighed, closing his eyes. "At the time, I didn't think I had it in me to kill anyone. Not even him. But after this..." He opened his eyes and looked at them. "It doesn't really matter anymore, does it? Even if I survive this, I'll just have to kill again. Maybe I'll die trying, maybe not. So trust me when I say you're not a marked man, Blaise. If you survive and choose to do something that could get you killed, that's your choice. You don't _have_ to do anything. Me, I don't have a choice. My fight won't end on this island." 

Hermione just stared at him, covering her mouth with her hands. Blaise too looked like he had been shocked out of his stupor. 

Harry looked up at the seagulls overhead. "The thing is... It didn't have to be me. It just as easily might have been Neville, had Voldemort chosen to go after him instead of me." 

They stood there in silence for a few minutes, each of them trapped within his or her thoughts. 

"I... I don't have any real reason to live," Hermione said quietly, breaking the quiet. "No bad guys to face, no system to tear down... My friends... Even if I live, they won't. So what reason do I have?" She laughed bitterly. "I'm surprised I've lasted this long." She looked down at her hands. "I've even killed. It doesn't matter whether Hannah was a good or bad person, I've still killed." She looked over to Blaise and Harry, who were watching her. "It didn't bring him back. I mean, I knew that it wouldn't, but some small part of me had hoped that by killing her, he'd come back. That somehow everything would be revealed as one big nightmare." She sighed. "But it's not, is it?" 

Blaise shook his head sadly. "No, it isn't." 

"I wonder..." Harry spoke softly, "If our class hadn't been chosen... If we would have come together..." 

"Probably not," Blaise said honestly as he took out a cigarette. "There would have been no reason for either of you to speak to me, or vice versa." He sighed as he lit up. "Damn shame... That people only come together when it's too late." 

They fell silent once more. 

**6 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 2:56 p.m.**   
Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) looked at his reflection in the small hand mirror he had taken from the house he had been resting in. Although the bleeding had stopped hours ago, he was sure that he was going to have a scar from where the shrapnel from the explosion the night before had torn into his face. It didn't really matter to him. He had never been a vain person anyway. Not like his face was much to look at before. Rather ordinary, really. A scar might actually be a good thing. 

He put away the mirror. He had heard guns go off on the northwest end of the island almost two hours ago, and the horn of some vehicle honk a few minutes later, but had no desire to go investigate. Not yet. He had been too far away to get there before whoever made the noise left. Besides, one of the guns that had gone off sounded similar to his own, in the way it fired rapidly. So he would wait it out. 

His pack was getting rather heavy from all the weapons and supplies he had gathered. He had contemplated taking one of the packs he had emptied to put stuff into, but decided against it as he needed his hands free to hold weapons in. So he would just have to make due. 

He checked the map. He was in the forested region of F-8. He didn't expect to find any of his classmates left in the forest, as the explosion and consequent fire had most likely flushed them out to the coasts or outskirts. To the west, where the explosion had occurred, some of the trees were still smoking. More incentive for others to stay out of the forest. So he would keep to the outskirts, covered by the trees as he walked around the island, looking toward the open coastline. And if someone _was_ stupid enough to still be in the forest, he would deal with them. 

Upon reflecting upon his situation, he supposed that he should have gone toward the noise he had heard earlier. Well, he'd make his way there eventually. He just had to check a few last buildings before he would make his rounds there. He just had to check upon the church and the lighthouse, which was in the general vicinity of the gunshots. And maybe the lookout, too, although that wasn't exactly a building. Even so, someone might be hiding out there. 

Just as he was about to walk onward to finish his hunt, his stomach growled angrily at him, reminding him that while he had stopped to rest every now and then, he hadn't bothered to eat much. He sighed and sat down on the ground, opening his pack. He hated having to bother with such trivial matters. The sooner the game was over, the better. And the stale bread everyone had been supplied with wasn't his idea of a good meal. 

Still, it was better to gain his strength. Unlike his classmates, who most likely had only their own food and supplies to survive off of, he had the rations of several of his classmates. Enough to give him an edge. While the others had to carefully watch the quantity of food they consumed, he didn't. They would be hungry and thirsty, while he would be perfectly fine. Yes, eating might be an annoying nuisance when he would rather be hunting the rest of his classmates down and ending the game once and for all, but it did have its advantages. 

Let them wait. Death would come for them eventually. 

**6 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 3:19 p.m.**   
Millicent Bulstrode (Girl 5, Slytherin) had never been a religious person, yet had inexplicably found herself drawn to the small church in E-8. She didn't even believe in any deity, but still found the symbols to be rather comforting, given the situation. Maybe it was because she had accepted the fact that she was going to die. She had heard that some people suddenly found religion on their deathbeds. Maybe she had as well. 

How many of them were left now? There hadn't been any deaths between the morning announcement and the noon announcement, for which she was grateful. Maybe her classmates were coming to their senses. But then the sound of gunfire coming from the west shattered such illusions. People were still playing. 

She too had played. She looked down at her hands. She hadn't bothered to wash them after her encounter with Theodore Nott, so they were caked with his blood. Even if by some miracle she did survive the program and end up the winner, her hands would be stained with blood. It wasn't just her, though. Whoever won would forever be stained. 

It was a small miracle that she had kept her mind as long as she had. Maybe it was because she had avoided the other students by hanging around the coast before the explosion the night before. The way she figured, not very many of them would be either brave or stupid enough to go out into the open like that. They'd stick to buildings or the forest. And she was right. 

Now, though... Those who remained were likely to avoid the forest. She couldn't blame them. But since she wanted to avoid her classmates, she thought it best to take to where no one would bother to go. As such, she ended up in the church. She was dimly aware that someone else might find it to be a good hiding place and end up finding her there, but at that point of time she was getting to be beyond the point of caring. Eventually she'd have to face off against someone. Still... 

She looked down at the ice pick sitting down beside her in the pew. Next to it was the machete she had taken from Nott. Neither weapon would really be of much use against the guns others seemed to possess. 

She sighed as she leaned back, half closing her eyes. There was no point on lamenting the way fate had turned out. It was all luck of the draw, and some people had more luck than others. She had been lucky that she had survived this long, but knew that her luck would run out. Only a dozen students remained. No, it was probably less than that, as there had been gunshots fired a couple of hours ago. For all she knew she could be the last one left... 

But before she could elaborate on such an idea, her blood ran cold as she saw a shadow pass by one of the stain glass windows of the church. She grabbed the ice pick next to her, and slid down onto the ground, hiding between the pews. Someone was outside! She mouthed a silent curse, not daring to make even the slightest of sounds. The panic that had been building up inside her ever since she had awoken in the classroom was starting up again. 

She tried to breathe as quietly as possible, but was certain that whoever was outside could hear her heart beating loudly. Poised to attack, she ran a silent prayer through her mind, pleading with whatever higher power was out there to see her to safety. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead as the door to the church slowly opened, and someone walked inside. 

No matter how hard she tried, she could not get her heart to beat any quieter. Wouldn't it be rather ironic for her to die of a heart attack or something before whoever was there killed her? She could hear the scuffling of their footsteps as they walked toward the front of the church. Soon they would pass by her pew and that was when she would attack. Maybe, if her luck still held, she would succeed in felling the nasty person with the nasty gun. 

Slowly, they came ever so closer to her hiding spot. One step, then another. Closer... She could see their shadow on the floor. Her knuckles were completely white; she was gripping the ice pick so tightly. Another step, and then... 

Springing into action, she stabbed the ice pick into their stomach, driving it in as deep as she could muster. Maybe it would be fatal, maybe not. They stumbled back and fell to the floor. Millicent grabbed the machete from off the pew where she had left it and crawled out of her hiding spot. 

She lowered her machete ever so slightly. "Vincent?" she said as she saw her victim for the first time. 

Vincent Crabbe (Boy 4, Slytherin) coughed up some blood, and then smiled slightly. "Looks like I found you." He coughed some more. 

She warily edged closer to him. "What were you thinking, sneaking up on me like that?" 

He shook his head. "Sorry... Wanted to find you..." He grimaced in pain. "The shooter... It's Neville... Hunting us down..." 

Millicent stared at him. That couldn't be... The boy didn't seem to have a mean bone in his body. But at the same time, it would make a lot of sense. "I--" her voice cracked. She had no idea what to say. 

"Listen... Blaise and Hermione... They can help... Find them..." More blood coughed up. 

She bit her lower lip. "How?" 

"Caw... like crow... Follow..." He closed his eyes and fell silent. 

Millicent looked down at him, expecting him to continue. "Follow? Follow what?" She paused. "Hey, talk to me..." She shook his shoulders. "Hey..." He remained still, and she realized that he wasn't breathing. She checked for a pulse. Nothing. 

"No..." For the second time, she had killed someone. But unlike before, when Theodore Nott was very obviously trying to kill her, Vincent Crabbe was not. He was trying to warn her, and she killed him... 

The panic that had welled up within her before began to resurface, this time with a sense of horror at what she had done. The logical part of her mind that was trying to prevent herself from losing control over herself tried desperately to calm her down. She remained there for a few minutes, crouched over him while her feelings waged war within. Eventually, she slowly stood up, taking the gun that he had dropped onto the floor as he had fallen, and walked to the door of the church. She hoped that what he had said was true, and that she could find help. 

Taking a few steps outside, she took in a deep breath, and then did the best imitation of a crow's call that she could. A few seconds later, she could hear someone caw back from the distance. She smiled. Maybe things were going to be all right after all. She took another step forward, then stopped suddenly as something breezed by her. She fell to the ground, her neck nearly severed from just above the collar. 

Neville smirked, collecting the gun she dropped. He had witnessed enough to figure out that she had sent out some sort of signal. From the sound of it, whoever had called back was just where he was heading next, anyway. Just perfect, how things worked out in the end, really. 

Casually, he continued on his way. 

**4 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 3:30 p.m.**   
Blaise sat back down in his spot in front of the truck, sighing with relief as he did so. He turned to face his two companions, who were giving him a myriad of looks. 

"So..." Hermione began. "So he'll be joining us soon?" 

Blaise nodded, and explained to a confused looking Harry, "We met up with Crabbe last night before the explosion. He was trying to get as far from the school as possible, and said something about looking for Millicent. Before we split, we told him to use bird calls if he wanted to join up with us later." 

Harry nodded. "What if he changed his mind about playing?" 

Blaise shrugged. "I doubt he would. You don't share a dorm with someone for five years without getting to know a few things about them." He paused. "He has a strong sense of right and wrong, despite what a lot of people think." 

Harry looked doubtful. "What about Neville? I've been his dorm mate for the same amount of time. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I never would have believed he'd take things this far." He gestured at his injuries. "This isn't like him. At all. I just don't get it." 

"Maybe there's nothing to get," Hermione said softly from her position near the hood of the truck. "Everyone here is scared," she continued, "and maybe he just gave in to that fear." 

Harry shook his head. "Even so... He just seemed so... merciless..." 

"I've seen it before," Blaise said, taking out a cigarette. "Back at my uncle's clinic. People would detach themselves so they didn't have to deal with their pain or feelings." He lit up. "Their true selves are still there, just buried deep down. Don't know how else to explain it." He exhaled some smoke. 

A lull fell over their conversation. Harry shifted in his position on the ground. "So... Is it possible to snap him out of it?" 

Blaise looked over to him. "Possibly. He'd be an emotional wreck if you did, though. I don't know how many students he's killed, but you remember how you felt when you killed Zacharias? And that was just an accident. Imagine how he would feel if he snapped out of his stupor. He might not be able to live with himself afterward." He shrugged. 

They fell silent once more. 

**4 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 5:15 p.m.**   
Following the caws hadn't been quite as easy as Neville had supposed it would be. Even so, he followed them as best as he could. In retrospect, going around the coast would have been easier than going through the wreckage of the forest, but he could wait. Besides, if he took the coastal route, the person calling to him would see him coming, and most likely duck into the forest before they were within range. So if he took the forest route, he could use the trees as cover and get closer to them. 

He checked his map. He should have made a lot more progress than he had, but had been forced to make a detour due to some of the trees in his path being on fire. Now he was somewhere in the southern end of F-4, feeling the need to rest due to all the walking. Just as he suspected, the student calling to him was somewhere on the northwest corner of the island. They could wait, though. He still had plenty of time. 

That reminded him. He looked to his watch. The 6:00 announcement would be in 45 minutes. He might not have as much time as he thought, if he wanted to beat the announcement. Whoever was doing the calling might stop once they realized that the person they thought they were calling to was dead. 

He studied his map, looking at his watch every so often. He needed to rest, but needed to beat the announcement. Let's see... If it took him that long to get from there to there, and then back around the detour, then it would take him approximately twenty minutes to half an hour to get to his destination so long as there were no more obstacles. Finally coming to a satisfactory conclusion, he decided that he could afford to rest for ten minutes or so. Whoever was calling to him seemed to be staying in one place, so they were likely well rested. He should be too. 

He set his pack down onto the ground, sitting down beside it. He could wait. 

**4 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 5:51 p.m.**   
Blaise looked at his watch, then handed Harry a painkiller from the kit he had taken before they left the clinic. "So whose names should we be expecting?" he asked as Harry swallowed the little pill. 

Harry held up his hand as he washed it down with some water. "Most of the girls. Let me check..." He took the class list out of his bag. "Uh... It looks like the only girls left are Hermione and Millicent." He paused. "I never realized there were so few of us left..." 

Blaise nodded, and looked at his watch again. "Am I the only one here whose getting a bad feeling about all of this?" 

Hermione shook her head. "Something's wrong..." she said quietly. 

Blaise nodded in agreement. 

Harry sighed, putting the class list away. "I wonder if he found her." 

"He might have found her dead..." Hermione said quietly. 

"Or maybe she didn't trust him," Blaise said. "Either way, we'll find out." He looked at the truck. "Maybe we should get in, just in case." 

Harry smiled. "Nervous?" 

Blaise nodded. "I'm getting the same feeling that I did back at the station." He didn't make any move to get up, however, nor did either Hermione or Harry. "Whatever may happen, stay by the truck. If you can't, get to the minivan." 

Hermione looked confused. "But it won't run." 

Blaise looked at her, half-smiling. "No, but it'll start, right?" He leaned back against the truck, although he didn't relax. "That's all we need." 

Although they were still confused, they remained silent. Minutes passed by. 

"So..." Blaise broke the silence. "Where do you want to go after we get out of here?" 

Harry looked to him. "How?" 

Blaise shook his head dismissively. "Gotta hold on to that hope, right? Me, I'd like to go to a village of beautiful women who were desperate for male attention." He smiled. "Don't know if such a place exists, though." 

Harry laughed, while Hermione shook her head, smiling. 

"There's nowhere in particular I want to go," Hermione said. "I've always wanted to see the world. Maybe go to Egypt. There's a lot of history there." 

Harry nodded. "I want to go somewhere where I can just be left in peace. Somewhere where people didn't point and stare at my scar, and where there was no prophecy hanging over my head. Somewhere that I could just be normal. Just be me." 

Blaise smiled. "I guess that's all any of us want." 

Just as Harry was about to say something back, Montgomery's voice interrupted him. 

"Good evening, everyone! Have you all been doing well? Well, it's not like there are many of you left who could answer, anyway, so let's just move on to the point, shall we? The dead." 

Blaise scowled. Montgomery was sounding far too cheerful. More so than usual... 

"The boys seemed to have gotten off quite lightly..." 

Harry didn't even have to look at the class list to realize that there were four boys left. Himself, Blaise, Crabbe, and Neville. He hadn't heard any guns fire since the lighthouse, and doubted that Neville would die so easily. And if Crabbe sent the signal, then all of the boys should still be alive. 

"...Only one. Boy 4, Vincent Crabbe." 

Harry's eyes widened. 

**4 students remaining**


	22. End Game

**September 3, 1996 -- 6:00 p.m.**   
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) looked over to his friend Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor). She sat there with a look of shock on her face. If Crabbe was dead... 

"Maybe," the girl's voice squeaked. "Maybe Millicent sent the signal..." 

Montgomery's voice continued. "Onto the girls, then. A rather high body count this time. Starting off we have Girl 2, Susan Bones; Girl 4, Lavender Brown; Girl 5, Millicent Bulstrode; Girl 10, Megan Jones; Girl 11, Su Li; Girl 18, Sally-Anne Perks; and lastly Girl 19, Sadie Roper." 

"Impossible..." Harry sat there, dazed. There hadn't been any guns fired in the afternoon since he met up with Hermione and Blaise. It was... impossible... He must have heard wrong. 

"So," Montgomery's voice continued. "It looks like we're down to the final four. Good work, Potter, Granger, Longbottom, and Blaise. You might not be able to see me, but rest assured you have brought a smile of pride to my face. Forbidden zones, then." 

Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) stood up, not even bothering to take out his map. "Pack up. We're leaving." 

Harry looked to him, and he signaled for them to hurry. Montgomery's voice continued. "At 7 p.m. E-4 will become forbidden..." 

Blaise slung his pack over his shoulder, holding his shotgun in one hand, and the Uzi in the other. "It's Neville. He found out how to contact us. He's coming, so move!" 

Harry and Hermione didn't need to be told again. They quickly gathered their packs over their shoulders, and grabbed guns from the center of their camp, where Harry had deposited the weapons earlier. Hermione held the Colt .45 she had taken from Hannah in one hand, and Susan's Browning in the other. Harry held Eloise's SIG-Sauer in his right hand, and the Glock in his injured left hand. The remaining gun was tucked into his belt. 

They didn't even have time to finish listening to the rest of the announcement before the grenade came flying toward them and they were forced to scatter. 

Harry hissed in pain as he slid across the ground. He was pretty sure some of his stitches had popped. It was better than the alternative, though. Shrapnel from the grenade and truck flew through the air. Turning his head a little, he could see Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) ducked behind a tree at the edge of the forest, holding his gun in on hand, and another grenade in the other. 

Harry shouted at the others to run, but wasn't sure if they could hear him or not. If they were at all like him, their ears must be ringing as well. In either case, Harry took aim as best as he could, even though it hurt his injured side, and fired toward Neville. 

The others must have gotten the message, as they began to fire as well as they slowly got up off the ground. He followed suit, continuing to fire. Remembering what Blaise had told them earlier about getting to the minivan, he ran over to them, while still keeping his eyes trained on their assailant. 

As if they read his mind, the three of them began to run, occasionally turning around every now and then to fire back at Neville, who had yet to fire back. Neville simply remained ducked behind his tree. 

Just as they were about to clear past their campsite, another grenade was sent hurdling through the air toward them. Once again they ran in different directions, ducking as the grenade exploded on the ground where they would have been. Before any of them could get up, Neville stepped out from behind his tree and fired toward the dust cloud. 

Hermione squeaked as a bullet narrowly missed her head. Something hot had grazed by her right ear, burning some of her hair. She could feel some blood trickle down from the top of her ear. She heard someone shout to stay down, and then the rapid firing of Blaise's Uzi rang out from somewhere nearby. Even though she couldn't see past the dust cloud they were in the middle of, the sound of Neville's gun stopped. 

"Harry! Hermione! Run! I'll hold him off!" Blaise shouted at them, although neither of them could hear him very well. 

They got up from their spots on the ground, ducking as low to the ground as they could while they ran toward the minivan. Hermione had no idea why Blaise had wanted them to go there, as it was totaled, but the truck was in no condition to do much of anything anymore. She wasn't sure if any of it was still left, except as debris and scrap metal. 

As they neared the far edge of the dust cloud, away from Neville, Hermione could see Harry's silhouette. She smiled with relief, then focused on her running. Gunshots rang out behind them. 

They cleared the dust cloud and stopped, looking at one another. 

"Do you think he's alright?" Harry asked, panting. His injuries were causing him to be out of breath faster than he should be. 

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know," she whispered. "I guess we'll find out." 

Before either could say anything more, a silhouette approached quickly, and they continued to run towards the minivan, unsure of just who might be emerging. 

Blaise fired a few more times toward Neville's general direction before the Uzi ran out of bullets. Not having the time to reload, as the dust cloud was settling down, he ran as fast as he could toward Harry and Hermione, who he could see just outside. "Run!" he shouted at them. He grimaced as a bullet tore into his leg, but didn't dare to slow down. Behind him he could hear the other boy's footsteps running closer. 

Trying to ignore the pain that shot up his leg with every step, he limped toward them. "Move!" he shouted as he rejoined them. 

Hermione's eyes widened. "You're hurt!" 

Blaise nodded. "And we'll be dead if we don't move, so go!" 

Harry shook his head. "We can't just leave you!" 

Blaise swore. "Than cover me while I reload, then get your asses in gear!" 

They didn't need to be told twice. They fired their guns toward Neville's silhouette, which was coming into clearer view as the dust settled. Taking out a box of bullets that he had stashed into his pocket, Blaise reloaded the Uzi as quickly as he could. 

Neville dropped to the ground, and the trio began to run to safety again. 

Neville grimaced as he reloaded the Ingram. After this, there were only enough bullets for one more reload. He still had two more grenades left, but didn't want to use them, lest he give them cover yet again. It was hard to fire blindly into a cloud of dust, and his ears still rang from the noise of the previous two explosions. He had just barely managed to duck the flying shrapnel from the truck. But he needed to stop them from using it to get away. 

Once he had reloaded the Ingram, he took one of his spare guns out of his open pack and followed them, running as fast as he could. He knew he could never catch up to them under normal circumstances, but he could not lose now. Not when they were the only ones standing between him and survival. He would not die here. 

The trio ducked behind some boulders that littered the beachside, reloading their guns as needed. Off in the distance was the crashed minivan. 

Blaise turned to Hermione. "You and Harry have to run to the minivan. Once you do, pop the hood and start it up. The instructions are on the piece of paper I gave you." 

Hermione looked at him, confused. "But--" 

Blaise shook his head. "No time. Take this." He took the stun gun he had taken from Theodore Nott out of his pack, and held it out to her. She shifted the Colt .45 to her other hand and took the stun gun, putting it into her pocket. "I'll cover you guys. Go!" 

Hermione nodded, shifting the gun back to her right hand, and she and Harry ran toward the minivan. 

Blaise stepped out from behind the boulder, firing toward Neville, who was approaching again. Blaise saw a few of the shots hit Neville square in the chest, and smiled as Neville fell to the ground. "That ought to do it." Relaxing slightly, he stepped away from the boulder, and turned to join up with the others. 

A noise behind him forced him to turn around again. His eyes widened as he saw the muzzle of Neville's Ingram flare up. His body surged with pain as bullets tore through him. The music locket he possessed fell out of his pocket, opening as it hit the ground. 

_He sat on top of the staircase, careful not to make a sound. He didn't want his parents to know that he was still awake and listening to their arguing. He could hear his baby sister wailing from down the hallway, and wished that she would be quiet so he could hear what his parents were talking about. _

"Please, you just can't leave! What about our children?" His mother begged, holding onto the sleeves of his father's robes. 

His father took a step back, releasing his robes from her grip. "Rosalie, listen to me. I have to do this. Our children deserve a better life than this. It's the only way." 

The four-year-old Blaise couldn't quite understand what was happening, but knew that it couldn't be a good thing. His mother was crying. The last time she cried was when her father had gone away on vacation. When Blaise had asked her when he was coming back, she just cried and told her son that he wasn't. Larissa tried to explain to him that their grandfather was dead, but he had no idea what that meant. 

"I can't raise them alone!" his mother sobbed, trying to stand between him and the door. 

He put an arm on her shoulder. "You won't have to. You have your brother to help, and I'll send money. It's just that it's too dangerous for me to have a known family. Please understand." He brushed past her toward the door. 

Blaise nearly jumped as a hand fell onto his shoulder. He looked up to see his older sister smile down at him. 

"You should be in bed," she whispered. She looked down at their parents and frowned. "This is grown up stuff." 

Blaise shook his head. "Not tired." He turned back to his parents as his father opened the door. 

"Gary, no!" Mama futilely grabbed at the back of his robes, but he just walked outside in silence. "Gary!" she shouted as the door closed. 

"Father... you bastard..." 

Everything went black, and Blaise Zabini fell to the ground. 

Harry had turned around slightly when he heard the guns fire behind him. He nearly stopped running when he saw Blaise fall to the ground. "No!" 

**3 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 6:05 p.m.**   
Sanchez looked toward his superior nervously. Montgomery was watching the monitor intently, an inscrutable expression on his face. Clayton and Delacroix exchanged looks, then turned to Sanchez, who shook his head. It was best to leave the other man to his thoughts. 

Sanchez's eyes glanced over to the still picture next to Montgomery's work station. As if reading his thoughts, Montgomery sighed and sat it face down on the desk. Nobody spoke as he turned around to face them, a hollow look in his eyes. 

"One would think..." he began, his voice no longer as cheerful as it usually was. He cleared his throat. "One would think that I would be upset, right?" Not waiting for any of them to say or do anything, he continued, "They'd be wrong. Stupidity. When one gets stupid, one dies." He turned back to the monitor. "Playing the hero." He scoffed. "Stupid. Never turn your back on the enemy unless you're sure that he's dead. He should have aimed for the head." 

The others said nothing, and turned back to their work stations when it became apparent the other man wasn't going to say anything more. 

**3 students remaining**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 6:06 p.m.**   
Harry ducked behind a boulder as a shot passed by him. It was far too close for comfort. Just ahead of him, he could see the minivan. A lot of good it would do them if they couldn't stop Neville or lose his trail. He still couldn't understand why they were supposed to go there. Not when it looked as bad as it did. 

He looked over to the boulder next to his, where Hermione was clutching her gun. He wondered if she realized yet that Blaise was dead. She glanced at him, and they made eye contact. Nodding at him, she emerged from the boulder, firing at Neville repeatedly. 

Neville ducked behind a boulder. Sparks flew as bullets grazed past it. He frowned. Even though the vest protected him, it still hurt whenever a bullet connected with it. He was certain that there were bruises all over his torso, but that was the least of his worries. If they realized that he was protected with a bulletproof vest, they might aim for his head, and that would be it. He was so close to freedom, and couldn't slip up now. 

As soon as the barrage of bullets ended, he jumped out from behind his boulder and fired toward the girl. He didn't even pause as she shrieked with pain as one of his bullets connected. She ducked behind her boulder again, and he ventured forward to the next boulder, closing the gap between them. 

He was just barely able to duck behind the next boulder before Harry popped out from behind his and started firing at him. He waited it out. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hermione move off to the next boulder ahead of her. No matter. They were running out of hiding places, as there weren't very many boulders left for them to hide behind up ahead. After that, they'd be in the open. He might not even have to break out the two extra guns he had in his pack. But it wasn't over yet, so he couldn't relax or get overconfident. 

Even though his Ingram was running out of bullets, he was good to go with the rest of his guns. And in the off chance that he exhausted the rest of his supply, he was closer to the Uzi and shotgun that the fallen Blaise had been carrying than they were. If he ran too low, he would just go back and retrieve them. No, they would most likely run out of bullets before he did. All he had to do was wait. 

Harry cursed as he ducked back behind his boulder. This wasn't working. Neville was trying to force them into the open. He tried to catch Hermione's eye as she appeared from behind her boulder and fired toward Neville, but she ignored him. He advanced as quickly as he could to the next boulder, firing behind him a few times for good measure. After a few shots, the gun clicked. 

"Hermione," he called as he hid behind the rock and began to reload. She turned to him as she ducked back. "This is getting us nowhere." There were only two more boulders between them and the minivan. 

She shook her head. "There's not much we can do." 

He took a step toward her. "But at this rate we'll be killed!" A bullet grazed by him and he stepped back. 

She looked at him and fired back at Neville, who ducked back. "So what do you suggest?" she asked. 

Harry sighed. "I don't know. Maybe... If we could reason with him..." 

She just looked at him sadly, then fired at Neville, who had emerged once again. She ducked back as her gun clicked. "I doubt it would work. Damn!" She tossed the Colt she had been shooting with to the ground. She was completely out of bullets for it. She shifted the Browning from her left hand to her right. 

"I've got an extra gun," Harry offered, gesturing to the gun tucked in his belt. 

Hermione shook her head. "No. I wouldn't be able to reload. You've got the bullets." 

He nodded. "I could give you those, too." 

"Too dangerous." She fired the Browning at Neville, who had advanced on them again. Tears were forming in her eyes. 

Harry nodded, then turned his attentions back to the battle at hand. Based upon the shadows on the ground, he could tell that Neville was just one boulder away. "I'm just so sick of this," Harry said as he fired toward the other boy. 

"We can't give up now," Hermione said. She dashed to one of the boulders by the minivan, making sure to fire at Neville whenever he would appear. After she had reached safety, Harry followed her, slightly slower due to his injuries. She covered for him as he ran toward her. 

After he hid behind the other boulder, she turned to him. "Listen to me. You go and run to the minivan. Hide behind it. I'll cover for you, and join you." 

He shook his head. "No. I'm not leaving you. You go." 

"I can't!" she argued back. "I have to start it up. I have to be the last one there. Don't argue with me, just go!" 

Harry glanced to the minivan nervously. Even though he knew it was a lot closer, it still seemed as though it was miles away from his vantage point. He turned back to her. "You only have one gun. You'll have to reload before you can get there. I'm not leaving you behind to be killed." 

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Then leave the extra gun and bullets behind. I'll pick them up before I follow. Deal?" 

Harry glanced to the minivan again, then looked back to her. "Fine." Making sure that he wasn't sticking out, he crouched to the ground, setting the SIG-Sauer on the ground before setting down his pack and rummaging through it for the extra bullets to the Smith & Wesson. He sat those down on the ground, as well as the gun he had tucked in his belt. Picking up his pack and gun, he gave Hermione one last look as he slowly stood up. "Be careful." 

Hermione nodded, holding the Browning tightly. "Go." 

As one, they emerged from behind their boulders. Harry ran toward the minivan while Hermione shot at Neville whenever he would emerge. She had to keep Neville from firing at Harry, while being careful to make sure she didn't need to reload. When Neville was ducked behind his boulder again, she raced toward Harry's abandoned boulder to collect the extra gun and bullets. She barely made it before Neville started firing at her again. 

Not bothering to pick up the gun or bullets yet, she fired back at Neville, who ducked again. She glanced nervously to Harry, who was almost at the minivan. She couldn't afford to look too long, though, as Neville was emerging again. She fired, but her gun only made a clicking noise. Her eyes widened, and she bent down to pick up the gun Harry had left for her. She was about to stand up when her fingers fumbled and the gun fell to the ground. She swore and went to retrieve it. This time, she was able to keep a hold of it. She smiled and stood up... 

...And faced the barrel of Neville's gun, aimed right at her forehead. 

**3 students remaining**


	23. Prophecy Boy

**September 3, 1996 -- 6:12 p.m.**   
Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) had tossed his Ingram aside when it ran out of bullets. He didn't know if any of the other guns' spares would fit it, and wasn't going to take the time to find out. Although he would miss the Ingram, he couldn't take the time to mourn its loss. He had more important things to concern himself with. 

"Harry!" he shouted at the fleeing boy, who stopped and turned around. Neville stood out in the open, holding an arm around the throat of a whimpering Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) while he aimed the gun he held in his other hand at her head. The guns she had held lay on the ground by his feet. 

Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) froze, eyes widening. "Let her go!" he shouted back. 

"You're not in any position to make demands!" Neville yelled. "Now drop your weapons!" 

Hermione tried to squirm free, but that only made Neville's grip on her tighten. "Don't do it!" 

Harry remained frozen, unsure of what to do. If he let go of his weapons, then they both would die. But if he didn't, then Neville might kill Hermione. "We don't have to do this!" he shouted, trying to buy some time as he thought things over. "I think there's a way out of here!" 

"Liar!" Neville dug the muzzle of the gun against Hermione's head. "Do you want her to die? Drop your weapons!" 

"Don't worry about me!" Hermione shouted. "Save yourself!" 

"You shut up!" Neville hissed. "Do you want to die?" He looked to Harry, who remained frozen. "Well? Do you think I won't kill her?" 

Harry took a step forward, then stopped as Neville's finger twitched over the trigger. "This isn't you, Neville. Please. Just let her go." 

"Drop your weapons." He tightened his grip around Hermione's throat enough so that she could barely breathe. "And I would suggest that you stop reaching for whatever weapon you might have in your pocket." 

Hermione froze. She had been trying to reach for the stun gun Blaise had left her without Neville noticing, but it looked like that wouldn't work. His grip on her relaxed enough for her to breathe again, but not enough that she could break free. 

"I'll give you to the count of ten, and if you haven't dropped your weapons by then, I will kill her. One." 

Harry looked at Hermione, making eye contact. 

"Two." 

"Harry..." Hermione pleaded. 

"Three." 

The conflicting emotions Harry felt waged war across his face. He couldn't leave her... 

"Four." 

Harry closed his eye tightly. If he weren't holding onto the guns, he would clench his fists as well. 

"Five." 

"Do you promise me you'll let her go?" he asked, not opening his eyes. 

Neville nodded. "Yes. Six." 

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, no! Save yourself!" 

"Seven." 

Harry opened his eyes and looked up at her. "I..." 

"Eight." 

The guns Harry had been holding fell to the ground. 

Neville smiled and released his grip on Hermione, while aiming his gun at Harry now. He shoved Hermione away with his now free hand. "Go," he said. 

Nodding, Hermione dashed toward Harry, who stood frozen in place. When she was halfway to him, Neville's gun shifted toward her, and he fired. 

Hermione's eyes widened as the bullet tore through her. "Harry..." she said before she fell to the ground. 

"No!" Forgetting his guns, Harry ran over to her. "No..." Ignoring the pain he felt as he slid to the ground before her, he picked her up. "Say something... Anything..." He was met with silence, and he checked for her pulse. "No..." He glared up at Neville, who was walking toward him. "You said you'd let her go! You promised!" 

Neville stopped. "And I did. I didn't promise I wouldn't shoot her, though." 

Harry just glared up at him. "How could you? How can you be so calm?!" Neville didn't say anything. "Answer me!" Harry screamed. 

Neville just looked at him dully. "Kill or be killed. Those are the rules, right? Just like the prophecy." 

Harry blinked, setting Hermione down to the ground. "What?" 

Neville smiled bitterly. "Did you think I didn't know about it?" His voice softened. "I've always known. Or at least since I can remember. Everyone thinks it's you, because you were the one attacked and not me. But maybe..." His eyes went slowly out of focus for a moment before focusing on Harry once more. "How can anyone know that it wasn't an act of capriciousness? A flip of the coin? Heads, he goes after you; tails, he goes after me." He shrugged. "Maybe it was because our secret keeper didn't betray us. Convenience, then." 

Harry looked at the boy. "You had a secret keeper too?" 

Neville nodded. "Naturally. He _was_ after both of us, after all." 

"So..." Harry sank in his crouching position and stared at the ground. "It might... Be either of us, really..." 

Neville shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not so sure of how the whole marking of an equal process works. It doesn't have to be a physical mark, I don't think. Maybe..." He looked past Harry off into the distance. "It's possible... That maybe the prophecy already _has_ come to pass." 

Harry's eyes widened, and he looked back up at the other boy. "But... He's still out there!" 

Neville continued to stare off into the distance. "True..." He turned back to Harry. "But when he attacked you when you were a baby... Something happened to him, and he was gone. Vanquished. Even though he came back, you had vanquished him." He looked to the gun he held in his hand. "There's far too much blood on my hands, isn't there?" Tears began to form in his eyes, and he took a step back. "I didn't even bother to keep track. I wonder just how many people I've killed. Friends, enemies... It didn't matter." 

Harry slowly stood up. "So... What happens now?" 

Neville looked at him sharply. "Why did you team up with a Slytherin?" 

Harry shrugged. "He saved our lives a number of times. I think he knew a way off this island, too." 

Neville scoffed. "And you give him your trust so easily?" He shook his head. "Slytherins lie. There is no way out of here. Hasn't that sunk in yet? Only one of us can survive." His face tightened and he took another step back. "He would have killed you. And anyone else foolish enough to trust him. Escape is impossible..." 

"But what if he had found a way?" Harry asked, taking a few steps toward Neville, who was starting to tremble slightly. 

"Keep your distance!" Neville shrieked, aiming the gun at Harry, who froze. "And if he said there's a way out, he was lying!" He clenched his free hand into a fist. "There's no way out. It's impossible... Because if... If it's not..." He took another step back, shaking. 

Harry contemplated the other boy for a few moments, then looked down at Hermione. "Do you believe in an afterlife?" He didn't wait for a response before continuing. "That those you've lost will be waiting on the other side?" He turned back to Neville, who was staring at him wide-eyed. "A place where no one stares at my scar, and I can just be an ordinary boy without the weight of the world resting on my shoulders. That's what I want. My happy place, where I'll be surrounded by my friends and family." He sighed, then smiled slightly. "They're waiting for me. Just beyond the veil." 

Neville took another step back. "Stop it..." 

"Maybe it's better this way. Even if we do escape... There's nothing waiting for me out there. Everyone's gone..." Now it was his turn to look off to the distance. "I never gave much thought about the future. I thought that being an auror sounded fun, but... I could never work for the Ministry after all that's happened." Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he turned back to Neville. "And even if we did escape, we'd be fugitives. So maybe it's better if you live." 

Neville's eyes widened. 

Harry smiled sadly at him. "There's nothing to fetter me to this world anymore. Everything... Everyone is gone..." He smiled and closed his eyes. "But I'll see them again. Dumbledore once told me that death is just the next great adventure. I wonder what it's like..." 

Neville took a step back. "You're trying to trick me..." 

Harry shook his head, opening his eyes. "I'm not going to kill you, Neville. So unless you kill me, both of us will die when our collars detonate tomorrow. Or maybe I could just walk into a forbidden zone and save you the trouble." 

Neville took another step back, his face darkening. "Stop it..." 

"I have no regrets. Not anymore." 

"STOP IT!" Neville screamed, firing the gun. His eyes widened as he realized what he had done, and he watched in horror as Harry fell to the ground. A piece of paper fell out of his pocket and fluttered to the ground as he did. Shakily, he walked over and picked it up. 

Although the barriers that had blocked away his emotions had already begun to crumble, what was left of them fell down completely as he read what was written on the paper. Tears formed in his eyes and he sank to his knees, not even hearing Montgomery's final announcement. 

'_There's a stun gun in my pack. If you set that off at the same time that you connect a jumper cable connected to one of the car batteries to your collar, you can remove the collar and escape._' 

**1 student remaining -- Game Over**   
  
  
**September 3 -- 6:43 p.m.**   
With the announcement that a winner had emerged and the year's program had ended, the day-long meeting had finally dispersed. Cornelius Fudge stood out in the hallway, feeling rather relieved that his job was still intact, and that Program 12 would resume as planned for the next year. The other world leaders were gathering in the hallway as well, chatting about various things. 

"Do not take it personally," the Japanese Advisor of Magic, Akira Hiyama, said as he approached. "They're just afraid because of the evil wizard situation." 

Fudge nodded slowly. "At least it's someone else's problem next year." 

Hiyama agreed. "That is true." He smiled slightly. "Your assistant really helped, even if that wasn't his intention. The youth of today are no good, and he proved it for all to see. How long will he be in prison for?" 

Fudge shrugged. "I don't know, and I don't care." 

Hiyama nodded. "I suppose it does not matter." He bowed. "Goodbye, then, Fudge-san." 

Fudge glanced toward the other leaders as the other man left. Their numbers were starting to thin as some Disapparated and went home. That might be a good idea. After everything, he deserved a nice rest at home. Maybe he'd take the day off from work tomorrow as well. Not bothering to speak to anyone else, he Disapparated.   
  
  
**September 3 -- 8:26 p.m.**   
Neville said absolutely nothing as he sat on one of the sofas situated within a small room on the rescue ship. It wasn't as though there was anyone to talk to, anyway. Montgomery and his lackeys were somewhere on the upper deck, laughing and settling bets. It made him sick to his stomach that they actually took bets on who the winner would be. Speaking of which, the stench from the bucket next to the sofa was getting to be unbearable. 

Even after Montgomery had announced him to be this year's winner, and deactivated the forbidden zones so that he could get to the school, Neville hadn't moved from his spot on the rocky beach. He just sat there for half an hour before they realized that he wasn't going to move and came to collect him. He had thought about using his gun on them, but decided against it. He had already killed too many people. Too many... 

After confiscating all of the weapons he had on him, they led him back to the school, where his collar was detached and his wand given back to him. They then led him to the harbor, where a ship waited to take them back to the mainland. Apparently a clean up crew was to come by the next day to deal with the bodies of his classmates. He felt sick again, just thinking about it. 

Placing his hand over his mouth, he got up and leaned over the bucket, expelling what little remained of the contents of his stomach. He had already thrown up so many times that he was surprised there was anything left. This wasn't the first bucket he had gone through, either. 

He wiped his mouth and was sitting back on the sofa when Montgomery entered the room. He didn't bother to acknowledge the man's presence as he looked to the wall. 

Montgomery sat down across from him in the other sofa. He sat the tray he had been carrying down on the table between them. "Have some tea, why don't you. It'll help calm you down." Neville said nothing, and he shrugged. "Alright, then." He poured himself a cup and took a sip. "A rather spectacular performance, I might say. Very seldomly have I seen anyone get so into the game as you have. Truly marvelous." He poured a cup of tea for Neville and slid it down the table to him. "You sure you don't want any?" 

Neville remained where he was, not saying a word. 

Montgomery took another sip of his tea. "Did you know that we have a betting pool on who the winner will be? I had my money on Blaise. 100 Galleons." He shook his head. "Clayton's up there gloating. He had his money on you. Made himself quite a nice sum." 

Neville looked at him in disgust. "You guys are filth." 

Montgomery chuckled. "We're not so bad, really. We just get bored. Not much to do most of the time. Plan for the next year's program throughout most of the year, and make sure things go smoothly when the program's on." 

"You get off on other people's misery. Now leave me alone." 

Montgomery smiled. "Aren't we the touchy one today?" He sipped his tea, and his face turned serious. "And I don't get off on people's misery. I just try to look on the bright side of things." 

Neville didn't answer, instead choosing to stare at a spot on the wall. 

Montgomery sat his teacup down on the table. "Did you know that we can listen to you students through the collars? No visuals, mind you, for which I suppose I'm rather grateful for. But we can hear you." Neville looked to him, and he continued. "Potter wasn't lying, when he said there was a way out. Oh, I'm sure you read about it on that piece of paper we found you with. I suppose we'll have to redesign the collars for next year to make sure that flaw can't be exploited." He smiled. "I wouldn't expect any less from Blaise, figuring out the flaws." 

Neville remained silent. 

Montgomery waved his hand. "Not very nice of him, though, calling me a bastard. Unlike him, my parents were married before they had me." 

"And I'm sure they're regretting the moment they had you." Neville paused. "You call all of us by our last names, but refer to him by his first. Why?" 

Montgomery leaned back in his seat, a wide grin on his face. "Talkative now, aren't we?" He shrugged, and a sorrowful look flashed in his eyes for a split second. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" He paused. "It's a good thing you didn't trust them enough to listen. None of you would have gotten far, had you actually succeeding in removing the collars." 

Neville sighed. "Are you here for any particular reason except to annoy me? Because if not, then I would ask you again to just leave." 

Montgomery smiled. "Would you rather one of the others keep you company?" His face turned serious again. "You need to vent, and I got the short straw." 

Neville shrugged indifferently. "Good for you." 

There was a knock on the door, and Sanchez walked into the room. "Sir, we're approaching the shore." 

Montgomery nodded. "Ah, good." He stood up and looked to Neville. "I'll leave you alone until then, yes?" Neville didn't respond, and the two Ministry wizards walked out. 

Neville glanced at his untouched cup of tea. Picking it up, he cried out with anger and he threw it against the door. After staring at the door for a few seconds, he put his face into his hands and began to cry. 


	24. And Then

**September 1, 1997 -- 10:01 a.m.**   
Neville Longbottom sat on his trunk on Platform 9 ¾, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. So far, not very many students had arrived yet, but it was rather early still. He had arrived early so that he could find an empty compartment without running into too many people along the way. He wasn't quite sure if he was ready to face his new classmates. 

He had thought briefly about transferring schools, but ultimately decided against it. He couldn't run away from what he'd done, nor did he want to. He wanted those who knew him to look at him with scorn, not be accepted by a group of strangers who had no idea what he had done. So let them stare and judge. Nothing they said or did could compare to the wretchedness he felt inside. 

He had spent the better part of the year before at St. Mungo's, missing out on most of his sixth year. Even long after his physical scars had vanished (all except for the scar on his face that he kept as a reminder of what he'd done), they had kept him so he could heal inside. He didn't understand why they bothered. He could never go back to being the person he was before. He had killed 15 of his classmates, and there was no going back from that. What made things worse was that at times he had actually _enjoyed_ it. And it was all unnecessary. All the time, there had been a way to escape. And even if there hadn't been, he shouldn't have killed them. He didn't deserve to live. 

He wondered how long it would take for the train to arrive, and whether anyone would care if he threw himself in front of it or not. 

"Neville?" 

Neville looked up to see a smiling Luna Lovegood, who walked over to him. Even though he would rather be left alone to his thoughts, he supposed that he'd have to face his classmates eventually. And since they were in the same year now, he might as well get it over with. 

"Hi, Luna." 

She dragged her trunk over next to his and sat down. "You're rather early," she observed. 

He shrugged. "I didn't want to run into anyone." 

She raised an eyebrow. "Because of last year?" A melancholic look flashed across Neville's face, and she sighed. "It wasn't your fault, and blaming yourself won't bring them back." 

He shrugged, a faraway look in his eyes. "It didn't have to happen." 

"Maybe not, but no matter how bad you feel, nothing will change." 

He didn't say anything, choosing to look at the big clock instead. 

She contemplated him for a few seconds, then looked toward the clock as well. "I'm not going to lie to you." He turned to her, and she continued. "It won't be easy. Some people won't have forgiven you, while others will avoid you out of fear. Some will pity you, and some will understand. Others just won't know how to act around you." She glanced at him. "If it happened to us again this year, would you protect me?" 

"It won't happen again." 

"I know. But would you?" 

He nodded. "I'd find a way out for all of us." 

She looked toward the big clock. A few seconds later, she turned back to him. "Do you want to take a walk or something? Get some fresh air?" 

He nodded, and they stood up. "Are you sure we should just leave our stuff? It might get stolen." 

She shrugged. "I guess we'll just have to trust that people will do the right thing, right?" 

"Yeah..." 

Leaving their belongings behind, they left Platform 9 ¾ to go back into the Muggle part of King's Cross station. 

When they returned, more students had entered the platform. Some of them were gathered into small groups, talking excitedly with friends they hadn't seen all summer long, while others were saying their yearly good-byes to their families. The Hogwarts Express was waiting for students to board. 

Luna turned to Neville. "Things are starting to look busy now, huh?" 

They walked towards their belongings. "Thirty-nine students are missing," he said numbly, casting a spell to lighten his trunk. He followed suit with Luna's trunk as well. He was 17 now, thus allowed to use magic outside of school. Dragging their considerably lighter trunks behind them, they walked to the train. 

Before they could get there, a voice called out to Luna from behind them. They turned around, and Ginny Weasley came running up to them. One of her older brothers trailed behind her. 

Ginny's face tightened as she looked to Neville, then she turned back to Luna. "Did you hear? That bitch Julia Carpenter... You know, the one who was always taking your stuff? I heard she's been expelled!" She glanced at Neville, then pulled Luna aside to continue their conversation. 

Neville looked to them, then turned back to get on the train. 

"Wait!" a voice called out from behind him. Neville turned around, and Ginny's older brother approached him. "I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Charlie. The first survivor." 

Neville's eye widened. He didn't know what to say. 

Charlie continued. "I tried to visit you at St. Mungo's, but was told that you refused any visitors." He shrugged. "Can't really blame you. I felt like that at first, too." 

Neville looked to the side, still unsure of what to say. 

"I would say that it'll get easier over time, but that would be a lie. I still have nightmares from time to time." He sighed. 

Neville looked to him. "So how do you cope?" 

Charlie smiled. "I refuse to give up. If I just mope around and feel sorry for myself, or dwell on what might have been, then they would win. Instead, I fight." He paused. "Have you ever given any thought to what you'll be doing after you leave school?" 

Neville shrugged. "I had thought about becoming a Healer, or an Auror, but..." He shook his head. "I don't know anymore." 

Charlie put a hand on his shoulder. "You can always work with dragons. If you want to, that is. Even if you don't want to fight, we're more than willing to help you in any way we can." He removed his hand and looked to Ginny. "I should probably go before she comes back. I don't think she wants me talking to you." He looked back to Neville. "Keep in touch. I mean it. And don't be so hard on yourself. Nobody's ever really gone so long as you don't give up." 

Neville's eyes widened, and the other boy left to meet up with his sister, who was holding a one-sided conversation with a bored looking Luna. As he watched the other boy leave, he felt rather confused about what had just transpired. But at the same time, it felt as though the heavy burden he carried with him was starting to lift. 

Dragging his trunk behind him, he boarded the train.   
  
  
**September 1 -- 6:26 p.m.**   
The train ride back to Hogwarts had gone a lot smoother than Neville thought it would. As always, the incoming first years ran up and down the aisles, much to the chagrin of the Prefects, who were trying their hardest to maintain some semblance of order. Luna had somehow lost Ginny in the crowd to join with Neville, along with another boy who he hadn't known. Neville felt ashamed at his previous beliefs about Slytherins when he learned that Adrian Grant, the boy who shared a compartment with them, was from that house. 

But he had yet to face his own housemates. True, he had seen Ginny back at the station, but she avoided him, and he avoided her. When he had entered the Great Hall, it had surprised him to see how empty the tables looked. The rock he had felt in his stomach was back, although he vowed not to let it get to him. That did nothing to abate the nervousness he felt as he walked to the Gryffindor table. What if all of his housemates treated him the same way Ginny had? It might be better to avoid them for now. 

So there he sat, at the far end of the table where the seventh years should be seated. If only things had been different, then they would all be with him, grumbling about how hungry they were as they waited for the first years to enter and be sorted. But he remembered what Charlie had told him earlier, and tried not to dwell on it. 

_"Nobody's ever really gone so long as you don't give up."_

Maybe... what Charlie said was true. After all, he had survived as well, so he would know what he was talking about. 

Somebody sat down across from him, and he looked up, surprised. 

"You really should sit with the rest of us," Colin Creevey said. "Some of the others might act like jerks, but not all of us think that way." 

Neville shook his head. "I-- This is where I belong." 

Colin quirked an eyebrow. "Isolated?" 

"No. This is where the seventh years should be. Where they would be if it weren't... Even if they're gone, I'll still sit by them." 

Colin nodded in understanding. "Mind if I join you guys as well?" 

Before Neville could answer, the door to the Great Hall opened, and Professor McGonagall walked in with the first years in tow. Neville remembered how last year she had looked grim. In retrospect, he realized that the professors must have known beforehand about how his class was chosen to participate in that sick program. The unexplained absences, the looks on the faces of those that had remained, Dumbledore's speech... The professors had known. 

He watched the staff table as the Sorting Hat debuted its new song. Just like it had last year and in fifth year, it sang about how the houses needed to unite. Neville had never given its songs much thought before, but now he paid the hat rapt attention. 

The song finished, and the first years were called up to be sorted. He ignored the rumbling of his stomach as he watched the line slowly dwindle until the final student became a Ravenclaw. 

The feast began, and students hungrily piled their plates high with food. Time passed, and gradually the noise of the Great Hall rose as the students finished their meals and began conversing with one another. Once the last student had finished eating and the food disappeared off the tables, Dumbledore stood up, and the hall fell silent. 

"I'm sure you first years have noticed the large number of empty seats at the tables where the seventh years should be," he said. "More than anything else, I wish that they could be here to join us." He took a deep breath and continued. "But they're not. Last year, their class had been chosen by the Ministry to engage in a fight to the death." 

There were a few murmurs from the first years. 

"There are various appeals to have that law overturned, and I hope that someday, one of those appeals will succeed. I don't ever want to give a speech like this again, and I'm sure that nobody else would either. Until then, we must always remember those who had fallen, and not give up. Now, then, we have a few start-of-term notices to go over--" 

Neville tuned out the rest of Dumbledore's speech, which was the same warnings about the forbidden forest being forbidden, and what items had made Filch's list of contraband. Soon, the students were dismissed, and he slowly walked out the Great Hall, thinking. No matter whether those around him forgave him, or treated him like a pariah, he wouldn't give up. Because if he did, only then would everyone truly be gone.   
  
  
**July 30, 1999 -- 11:33 p.m.**   
Neville leaned against the wall with a smile on his face as he surveyed the rest of the room. The others were laughing and drinking, celebrating the downfall of Voldemort. He was sure that wizards and witches all over the world were celebrating as well. If the fireworks he had seen earlier at Diagon Alley were any indication, they were. 

That wasn't why he was smiling, though. Although it was a good reason, the piece of paper he held in his hand was the cause. He held it up as he caught Charlie Weasley's eye. Curious, the other man approached. 

"A real cause to celebrate," Neville said as he was joined by his fellow Dragon. After leaving school, he had taken him up on his offer to join them. He handed him the paper. 

Charlie's eyes widened as he read it, the smile on his face broadening. "It's over..." he said in a hushed tone. He turned to the rest of the room, who were still partying. "Can I have your attention, everyone?" he called out. Slowly, people turned to him. "I think our little party will have to go on longer than we thought, because I just got news that one of the appeals to overturn Program 12 has finally been successful! It's over!" 

A mighty cheer resounded through the room. Someone set off some fireworks. 

"Hey!" Charlie shouted. "I know you're excited, but do that outside! Outside!" He went off to admonish them. 

Neville shook his head, laughing. Although the program's demise came too late for his classmates, or those of the Brazilian girl and Australian boy who came after him, at least nobody else would be subjected to the horror of Program 12. 

Wherever they were, he was sure that the fallen were celebrating as well. 

He peeled himself from the wall to join with the celebrations. Even though there were still many injustices within the Ministry, they wouldn't give up. Never. 

**Once again, "1 student remaining."   
But that's really just a matter of perspective.**


End file.
